


Tuttle's A Series of Unfortunate (And Highly Improbable) Events

by Tuttle4077



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuttle4077/pseuds/Tuttle4077
Summary: What happens when Hogan, Newkirk, and Kinch are sick? Oh Lafeyette, we're in DEEP trouble!
Kudos: 2





	1. Never Lick a Flagpole

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. This work was originally published in 2007 (and completed in 2018!) as a response to a challenge posted on FFN.

There were quite a few things in life that he knew not to do. The first was to never lick the flag pole during winter. The second was to never throw rocks at explosives. And the third and most important, was to never let a woman ask if a certain dress made her look fat. Such things were dangerous and downright stupid and, to his everlasting shame, Colonel Robert Hogan had done them all. But all these infractions of common sense were mild, _nothing_ , compared to the blunder that Hogan was willingly and knowingly about to make. Of course, in his defence, the man was sick, so it was entirely possible that he was not thinking clearly. Whatever the reason, the important thing was that, after the smoke cleared and the whole episode ended, Hogan promised never, _ever_ to let such a heinous thing happen again.


	2. Lesser of Two Evils

"Now, from time to time, I have the privilege-"

"Achoo!"

"Bless you. Now, prisoners, from time to time-"

"Achoo!"

"Gesundheit. Now, from time to time-"

"Ah-ah-ACHOO!"

Colonel Klink had had enough. "Colonel Hogan!" he shouted, shaking his fist. "Would you stop that incessant sneezing!" From his spot in line, Colonel Hogan sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his bomber jacket. With another sniffle and a pathetic groan, Hogan simply nodded and closed his eyes. Klink raised an eyebrow. No witty, sarcastic remark? The American must've really been sick. Klink felt a wave of sympathy, but pushed it down. After all, Hogan was the enemy. "Now, as I was saying, from time to time, I have the privilege of bringing you news of the war which you are no longer a part of."

"Boo!" Lebeau shouted. Klink ignored him and the rest of the prisoners who hissed loudly.

"Things continue to go well for-"

"ACHOO!"

"-the invincible… Oh, forget it. DIIISSSS-MIIISSSED!" And with that, he turned on his heel and trudged through the deep snow and back to his office.

"Let's have a cheer for Colonel Hogan!" one of the freezing men shouted as they turned back towards their relatively warm barracks. Hogan raised a hand, accepting their cheers, before stumbling in behind them. When he was inside, Hogan groaned and sat down, resting his head on the tabletop.

"Gee Colonel, are you all right?" Carter asked. The colonel just sneezed. "Hmmm." Carter pulled off a glove and placed it on the Colonel's forehead.

"Hey," Hogan protested feebly, trying to swat Carter's hand away.

Carter let out a low whistle. "You've got a temperature, boy… sir."

"Thanks doctor," Hogan mumbled sarcastically. Carter moved his hand and Hogan's head dropped onto the table. Hogan let out a pitiful groan and sniffled.

"Blimey, the colonel must've caught that nasty flu that's been going around the camp," Newkirk observed, looking over the sick officer.

"Your powers of deduction are amazing Newkirk," Kinch said, shaking his head. Carefully, he grabbed the colonel and hauled him to his feet. "Come on Colonel, time to put you to bed." Hogan was already half-asleep, so Kinch and Newkirk gently guided him into his office and tucked him into his bunk.

"Boy, that really stinks. I hate being sick. And the colonel _really_ hates it. But at least this way maybe he'll get some sleep. You know, that's probably why he-"

"Oh be quiet Andrew," Newkirk said, rubbing his forehead and casting a glance heavenwards.

"He'll come out of it soon enough," Kinch said with a shrug. "In the meantime, there's not much happening. And if something does pop up, we can probably handle it without him. So let's just let the colonel sleep and get better, all right. LeBeau, why don't you whip up some chicken soup?"

"D'accord. I will make the colonel the most delicious soup he has ever tasted. That will help him get back on his feet in no time!"

"What about us LeBeau?"

"What do you need soup for? You're not sick!"

As it turned out, LeBeau had spoken too soon. In fact, the next morning at roll call, Hogan and his bout of the flu had company. Lots and lots of company.

"Now, from time to time," Klink was saying as he faced the rows of men outside Barracks Two, "I have-"

"Achoo!"

Klink clenched his fist around his riding crop. "Colonel Hogan," he growled.

"Wasn't me," Hogan sniffled. It looked to Klink as if the American colonel would fall over any moment. Surely, such a sneeze would've sent him to the ground. Another sneeze and another rose into the air. Klink scanned the crowd and noticed for the first time that all the men, save the cockroach and an American sergeant, were sniffling and sneezing, many of them barely staying upright.

"Oh this is ridiculous. Dismissed. Now get into your barracks and lie down before you all fall down!" Klink ordered sternly before stalking away.

"Oh boy," Carter sighed as he closed the barracks door behind him and glanced about. "I think I better breathe through my ears from now on." He waited for someone to make a snide comment. He knew the situation was bad when no one so much as shot him a dirty look. "All right, who _isn't_ sick?"

"It looks like it's just you and me Andre," LeBeau observed.

"Lord help us," Hogan groaned from his spot at the common room's table.

"Don't you worry Colonel. You won't be sick forever. It's been really quiet lately anyways. I don't think anything will happen until you get better."

"If I had the strength, I'd knock on wood for you," Kinch moaned from his bunk.

Hogan let his head drop to the table with a thud. "That should do it."

"But what if something does happen? None of us are really in a position to do anything about it," Kinch said, gesturing to Newkirk- who was desperately trying to lift himself onto his top bunk- to illustrate his point.

Carter, who had now just noticed Newkirk's pathetic plight, clicked his tongue and grabbed a hold of his friend. "Here Newkirk, take my bunk."

"You don't need to treat me like a ruddy child," Newkirk protested, trying to push Carter away.

"Just until you get better," Carter said brightly, easily subduing the Englishman and tucking him into his bunk. Newkirk, too tired to argue, curled up in Carter's bed and promptly fell asleep.

"This is just great. Our entire operation is out of action," Hogan groused before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Not the entire operation," LeBeau said, a little offended. "You still have me."

"And me!" Carter chirped. LeBeau just rolled his eyes.

"You're right," Hogan yawned, trying to stay awake. "If something does happen while we're all sick, one of you has to be in charge." He looked up at his only able-bodied men and inwardly groaned. He shot a glance at Kinch who just shook his head slightly. They were both thinking the same thing- pick the lesser of two evils. Hogan studied them intently for a moment, but soon found it only made his headache worse. Finally, his eyes fell upon the short Frenchman. "All right, LeBeau, you're in charge- temporarily."

"Oui! I won't let you down mon colonel!"

Hogan glanced heavenwards and shook his head. The lesser of two evils, he reminded himself. "Fine," he muttered as he got to his wobbly feet. "I'm going to bed." He stumbled towards his office and nearly fell halfway there, but a pair of hands grabbed him and kept him up.

"Easy Colonel," Carter chided as he guided Hogan towards his room.

Hogan felt a wave of guilt pass through him as Carter helped him into bed. Or maybe it was just nausea, he couldn't tell. Either way, how could he explain why he chose LeBeau, a corporal, to lead the operation over Carter? "Listen, Carter-"

"Take it easy Colonel," Carter smiled. "Just get better. Then we won't _have_ to worry about who's running the camp."

Hogan wanted to explain himself, but his blankets were so warm, and his pillow was so soft. Whoa… just how sick was he? Shaking his head, he nestled into his bed and closed his eyes. "Thanks Carter," he mumbled before drifting off into dreamland.

"Get better Colonel… fast," he added under his breath as he went back into the common room. LeBeau was at the stove, cooking up a new batch of soup. Everyone else was in their bunks, mostly asleep, but some were teetering on the edge of consciousness, moaning to themselves.

"Boy, would you look at this." Carter scrunched his nose. "I hate how it smells when people are sick.

"You know, this reminds me of when I was a kid and everyone in my house was sick except me. Heck, practically everyone in Bullfrog was sick and I-"

"Quiet," LeBeau scolded, "there are people trying to sleep."

"Right. Sorry," Carter apologized with a sheepish grin. "So LeBeau, what're we gonna do now?"

"Now? I suppose we can just-"

CRACK!

"Sacre chat!" LeBeau cried as he jumped out of the way, barely missing the large chunk of roof and had collapsed and fallen to the floor.

"Holy Toledo!" Carter gaped as he looked up. "The snow must've been too much for it. We're lucky the whole building didn't collapse!"

"Oui, oui, we are very lucky… to have a giant hole in the roof!" LeBeau shouted, still a bit shaky from his narrow escape from death.

"Oh calm down, it's not that big."

"Not that big?!" LeBeau threw his eyes up at the ceiling. "It's as big as I am." He saw Carter open his mouth to say something, but quickly cut him off. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Well, why don't we just go to Klink and ask for some stuff to fix it up."

"That's a ridiculous idea…" LeBeau looked back at the ceiling and groaned. "I'll go. Le Colonel left me in charge, remember."

Carter shrugged. "All right. In the mean time, I guess I better go around the camp and get everyone to clear off their roofs so this won't happen again."

LeBeau, who either hadn't heard or was ignoring his companion, began to pace. "How am I going to uh, what is that phrase le colonel uses? You know, when he wants to tell something to Klink?"

"Pitch?" Carter supplied helpfully.

"Oui, how will I 'pitch' it to Klink?" LeBeau scratched his chin. "Ah, I have seen Colonel Hogan do it many times, it should not be hard. In the mean time, you go to the other barracks and have them clear off their roofs."

"Boy, you sure are smart LeBeau. Good thing the colonel left you in charge." As soon as he'd said that, he silently wished he'd been able to keep the little twinge of sarcasm out of his voice. LeBeau had enough to deal with as it was, he didn't need Carter making things worse.

"Merci, Andre. Now, vite, before we all catch our deaths."

Carter grinned and threw LeBeau a mock salute as he headed out. "Good luck with Klink."

"Merci, but I don't think I'll need it. It should not be that hard to get what we need," LeBeau announced confidently as he followed Carter out. He took a moment to look up and curse the falling snow before he made his way to Klink's office. "Good morning Fraulein Hilda," he greeted as he stepped inside.

Fraulein Hilda, Klink's secretary, looked up from her work and smiled slightly. "Guten tag. How can I help you?"

"I need to speak to the Kommandant. It is most important."

Hilda raised an eyebrow and tossed a glance at the door, as if she were expecting someone else. "Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"He's sick, that's why I'm here," LeBeau explained.

"Oh, I see," she said with a pout. "I hope he will be better soon."

LeBeau said nothing as she stood and sauntered over to the Kommandant's door. As far as LeBeau was concerned, the colonel could stay sick a little while longer- especially if that meant that he got to see Hilda more often.

"Herr Kommandant, there is a prisoner here to see you. He says it is very important."

"Tell him to go away, I'm very busy!" Klink's voice said from the other room. Taking a breath, LeBeau pushed past Hilda and marched into Klink's office, as he'd seen Hogan do so many times before. "What is the meaning of this!" Klink demanded when he saw the little French corporal. "I said I was very busy! I have no time for your trivial little complaints!"

"But this is important Kommandant sir!" LeBeau insisted.

"Nothing is more important than my paperwork," Klink groused, motioning to the piles of papers stacked on his desk. "Dismissed."

LeBeau stood his ground. "But Kommandant, the roof of our barracks fell in. All I need is your permission to get some supplies to fix it up."

Klink scowled but barely looked up from his paperwork. "I said dismissed."

LeBeau was close to losing his temper. Didn't Klink care? Of course not, the filthy Boche. LeBeau clenched his fists and willed himself not to lunge at the German's throat. "You don't understand! There's a big hole in the roof! Everyone is sick and it is already freezing-"

"Enough of this insolence!" Klink said, standing up and pounding his fist on the table. "May I remind you that not only are you a prisoner, but you are only a _corporal_. And I am a _colonel_."

"It's a crazy war," LeBeau muttered. Much to LeBeau's surprise, Klink heard the remark and grew red.

"SCHULTZ!" Klink screeched. A moment later, the blubbery sergeant of the guard popped into the room.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant?"

"Schultz, take this- this- this cockroach to the cooler and keep him there for thirty days!"

"Wait a minute, I protest!" LeBeau hollered as Schultz made a grab for him.

"You are in no position to protest. Schultz, take him away," Klink ordered with a flippant wave of the hand.

"Why you filthy-" LeBeau started, but was cut off by Schultz, who threw his hand over the diminutive corporal's mouth. Then, he practically lifted him off the ground and carried him out. "Why'd you do that Schultzie?!" LeBeau demanded when they were outside.

"I did not want to you to get into anymore trouble. You should be ashamed of yourself, talking to the Kommandant like that," Schultz scolded. "Even if you're right."

"He deserved it!" LeBeau scowled.

"Hey, what's going on here?" It was Carter, who quickly made his way up to Schultz and his captive. "Schultz, where are you taking LeBeau?"

"To the cooler. By order of the Kommandant," Schultz explained.

"Golly, what happened?! You were just supposed to go in there and ask for some supplies-"

"That filthy Boche. He does not care if we all freeze to death!"

Carter scrunched his nose. "So… we're not getting any supplies?" LeBeau just scowled and shook his head. "What now?"

"Don't worry Andre, I will think of something."

"Enough talking now, I must take you to the cooler," Schultz said apologetically as he lead LeBeau away. Carter watched them go and felt a bit of panic rise within him. Now what? Not only was LeBeau in the cooler, but there was still a big hole in the roof and he had no supplies to fix it.

With a heavy sigh, Carter glanced from the barracks to Klink's office. Then, squaring his jaw, he made a determined step towards the latter. He hesitated for a moment, trying to convince himself it was a good idea. Well, the worst that could happen would be that Klink would throw him in the cooler too. At least then LeBeau would have some company. And he wouldn't be stuck by himself in a barracks full of sick men. But then again…

"Oh would you just go already," Carter muttered to himself before he marched up to Klink's office.

He took a moment to brush the snow off and make himself a little presentable before entering Klink's outer office. He was greeted with the sight of Klink ranting to Fraulein Hilda about the prisoners and their lack of respect. It was quite unfortunate because as soon as he entered, Klink saw him and turned his outrage towards the American.

"You prisoners! All you think about are your problems?! What about my problems! I have the Gestapo breathing down my neck! Do I need trouble with the Gestapo?! No! And all you can think of is your silly roof falling in! It'd serve you right if you all freeze to death!"

"Well, gee sir-" Carter started, but Klink was far from finished with his complaints.

"And why are all these enlisted men coming to me? Don't they know how to show proper respect for officers? No wonder you are losing the war- no discipline!"

"Uh, sir-"

"That cockroach was in here just now and he had the nerve to talk back to me. No respect. Maybe he'll learn some respect in the cooler! What do you have to say to that?"

Carter hesitated for a moment, waiting for Klink to continue. But the Kommandant was staring pointedly at him through his monocle. Clearing his throat, Carter raced through all the things the colonel would say at this moment. He finally fell upon the one sure-fire way to appease Klink- a nice ego massage. "That's awful Kommandant, sir. You deserve a lot of respect, why a guy like you. Colonel Hogan says that you're-"

"What does Hogan say about me?" Klink interrupted, leaning a bit closer, a suspicious look on his face.

"Oh why sir, he's always saying what a great guy you are. How fair and decent you are. And how you try to make life here a little better for us. But then, at the same time, he makes sure we know you are the toughest, smartest Kommandant in Germany."

"Of course I am!" Klink boasted, puffing out his chest.

"Oh sure. Why, Colonel Hogan respects you more than anything. He says that you're practically his best friend!" Carter inwardly cringed, hoping that lightning wouldn't strike him for such blatant lies. How did the colonel stand putting up with this man day after day?

"Really? Hogan said that?"

"Yes sir. You're almost like his brother."

"Amazing. I never knew. But tell me, why hasn't he ever said anything to me about this?"

Carter shrugged. "You know the colonel- he just can't right out and say how he feels." Carter squirmed slightly before pressing on. He'd done a pretty good job of smoothing Klink's feathers- shucks, even the colonel would be proud. But one wrong word here would ruin all his chances at getting what he wanted. "Poor Colonel Hogan is awful sick right now, you know."

Klink nodded somberly. "My best friend is sick. There must be something I can do for him. Some soup? A little schnapps and-"

"Well, I'm sure he'd get better a lot faster if there wasn't a hole in our roof."

Klink hadn't heard him, so lost was he in his thoughts. "He thinks I'm his best friend… And he's stuck in a barracks with a hole in the roof." Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I shall move him into the guest quarters here so he can get better faster. Then maybe we can have a brother to brother chat and-"

"That's a great idea sir," Carter said quickly, cutting him off. Boy, this guy liked to talk. Which, Carter mused, wouldn't have been so bad if he actually said something interesting. "But I know the colonel just couldn't get better if he knew all his men were freezing."

"You're right," Klink said with a thoughtful nod.

"Permission to get supplies to fix it sir?" Carter asked hopefully.

"Permission granted," Klink said with a flippant wave of the hand. "I'm his best friend… a brother… really?"

"Uh, yes sir." Carter gulped before continuing. "Sir, about LeBeau? It's going to take an awful long time to fix the roof if it's just me. He's the only other guy who isn't sick!"

Klink looked thoughtful for a moment. "Very well, his sentence is suspended for now. At least until the roof is finished."

Carter grinned and gave Klink a salute. "Thank-you sir. Boy, Colonel Hogan was right about you all along!"

"He certainly was! Now go and fix your roof."

"Yes sir. Thank-you sir." With another salute, Carter turned and rushed outside before Klink changed his mind. Once he was back out in the snow, he let out a relieved sigh and made his way to the cooler. Schultz was just coming out and met him out the entrance. "Hiya Schultz."

"Carter, what are you doing here? No one can visit the cooler without permission from the Kommandant."

"But I have permission Schultz. Kommandant Klink says LeBeau can come out to help fix the roof."

Schultz raised a heavy eyebrow. "Kommandant Klink said that?" Carter nodded with a grin. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"Who me?" Carter asked, genuinely hurt Schultz would ask such a thing. "Have I ever lied to you before?"

Schultz thought about it for a moment but quickly decided to forget the whole thing. "All right, we'll go and get LeBeau."

"Thanks. And when he's out, we need to get some supplies to fix the roof."

"I'm glad the Kommandant changed his mind," Schultz observed as the two made their way into the cooler and down the stairs.

"Me too," Carter grinned, quite pleased that everything had worked out for him. Pretty soon that big old hole in the roof would be all patched up. Just as soon as LeBeau was out to help him.

"LeBeau, the Kommandant said-" Schultz's voice suddenly died as he opened LeBeau's cell. Carter raised an eyebrow and peeked over Schultz's shoulder. He let out a soft groan and buried his head in his hands.

LeBeau was gone.


	3. Aw Shucks

Panic instantly swept over Carter as soon as his brain registered exactly what had happened. But it was nothing compared to what Schultz was feeling.

"LeBeau?! LeBeau where are you?!" Schultz cried, stepping into the tiny cell. He looked up, he looked down. He checked under the bed and even under the blanket, even though the bed was obviously unoccupied. "Carter! LeBeau is gone. He escaped!" He turned to Carter, who's brain was racing at a thousand miles a minute while his mouth hung open in apparent shock. "Where did he go? Oh, I must report this to the Kommandant!" And with that, Schultz hurriedly shoved past Carter and began running- or at least doing a quick waddle- down the hall.

Carter snapped himself out of his thoughts just in time. "Wait! Schultz, get back here!" he yelled, trying to keep his panic down. Where was LeBeau? He must've gone down into the tunnels. How the hey was he going to explain that?

Schultz obediently came back to Carter and peered into the cell. "Did he come back?"

"Uh… no," Carter said flatly. He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. If LeBeau had come back, then perhaps Schultz would've stuck to his usual 'I see nothing' routine. But then again, maybe he wouldn't and they'd be stuck explaining how he had disappeared and reappeared in less than a minute.

"We must find him! How did he get out!" Schultz wailed.

Carter furrowed his brow. "Shucks, maybe you forgot to lock the door," he said, not daring to mention the tunnel- even in jest.

"I'm sure I did," Schultz protested.

"Well how else would a guy get out of here! Shoot, this place is a fortress!"

"But if he walked out of his cell, then why didn't we see him outside?" Schultz asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"You know LeBeau, Schultz," Carter said. He held his finger and thumb an inch apart. "He's awfully tiny."

"Not _that_ tiny! I must report this to the Kommandant."

"Wait Schultz," Carter begged, thinking as fast as he could. "Look, there's no way LeBeau could've gotten out by himself- you must've left the door unlocked. I know that, you know that, and Colonel Klink will know that. Do you really want to tell Klink you left the door unlocked?"

Schultz twisted his face. "He would send me to the Russian Front," he surmised slowly.

"Right," Carter said, feeling incredibly relieved that Schultz was sticking to the script. He felt somehwat silly for feeling so nervous around Schultz. The guy wasn't exactly a genius. Colonel Hogan and the others could twist him to do whatever they wanted. But none of the others were around right now. Carter had to rely upon his own fast talking- and truth be told, that scared him just a bit. Of course, now that he thought about it, he had gone up against much tougher Germans- Klink, even a chemical warfare expert. Schultz was nothing.

Feeling a lot more confident, Carter grinned and gave Schultz a friendly pat on the back. This whole running the camp thing wasn't so hard after all. "So let's just keep this between you and me. LeBeau was allowed out anyways- you just saved us a step."

"You're right. You are such a good friend Carter."

"Aw shucks," Carter grinned, kicking an imaginary rock.

"Aw shucks?" Schultz asked as he led Carter out of the cooler.

"Yeah, aw shucks. You don't know what that means?" Schultz simply shook his head. Carter threw him a funny look. "Aw shucks is what you say when someone says something nice about you. See, I'll show you. Schultz, you're the best guard in the entire German army."

"I am?" Schultz said, looking at Carter as if he'd gone crackers.

"No Schultz, you say 'aw shucks'. Try it again. Schultz, you're the best guard in the entire German army."

"Aw shucks," Schultz smiled.

"There you go." Carter suddenly grew serious as the two approached Barracks Two. He had more important things to worry about than teaching Schultz his Midwest American slang. "I bet LeBeau's in here. I'll get him and we'll be right out for our supplies."

"Danke Carter. I will meet you at the supply hut."

Carter waved as Schultz walked off and waited until the guard had rounded the corner before bursting into the barracks. "LeBeau? LeBeau?" he called loudly. Several men groaned and one even attempted to throw his pillow at the intruder.

Carter winced, remembering the sick occupants, and lowered his voice. "LeBeau. You better be in here. You're in a heap of trouble." He scanned the room and even peeked his nose into the colonel's office, but LeBeau was nowhere to be seen. Carter let out an frustrated grunt before marching over to Kinch's bunk.

"I'm sorry Kinch but I gotta get down there." He gently shook the other sergeant awake. "Just for a second Kinch."

"What's going on," Kinch slurred through a sleepy haze. "Why is the room spinning?"

"Uh, it's not. Listen, I gotta get down into the tunnel. It's important."

Kinch gave Carter a confused look. After a moment he peered past him, looked up and became even more confused. "Why's there a hole in the roof?"

Carter let out an exasperated sigh. "It's a long story. You just gotta move for a second Kinch- I need down in the tunnel."

"Is there a hole in the tunnel?"

Now, it should be noted that Carter was a patient person- except when explosions were involved. In fact, it could be said that he was the most patient out of this particular group of prisoners. But right now, the sergeant was having a hard time keeping himself from pushing Kinch off the bunk. It seemed a bit ridiculous that someone as intelligent as Kinch could be so confused. It also worried him just a little.

"No, there's no hole in the tunnel. I just gotta get down there. Listen, you sleep on the floor and when I come back up, I'll tuck you back in. Deal?"

Kinch, who by now had gathered some wits about him, nodded and rolled onto the floor with a thud. Carter winced again and shook his head. "Why is my bed the elevator?" Kinch murmured sourly.

"Sorry," Carter said lightly as he smacked the bunk. The mattress rose into the air and the entrance to the tunnel open. Carter apologized to Kinch once more before lowering himself down the ladder.

"LeBeau? LeBeau, are you down here?" Carter called, though not as angry as he had before.

"Right here Carter," LeBeau answered, strolling into view. He gave Carter a critical glance. "Did you come down here to get supplies to fix the roof? You can't do that, what if Klink asks where you got them?"

Carter felt his cheeks grow hot. What did LeBeau take him for, a dummy? Taking a deep breath, Carter forced himself to count to ten before continuing. LeBeau hadn't meant any harm- he knew that. Besides, it wouldn't do to have the only able-bodied men at each other's throats. "Actually, I came down here to find you. Kommandant Klink suspended your sentence and gave us permission to fix the roof."

LeBeau blinked. Then blinked again. Had he heard Carter right? "Did Colonel Hogan talk to him?"

"No, I did," Carter pouted slightly.

"You? How did you manage that?"

Carter shrugged. "I just remembered everything Colonel Hogan's ever told us about Klink."

LeBeau raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"That he's dumb, arrogant and gullible."

It didn't take long before Carter and LeBeau were up on the roof of Barrack's Two, hammering away at the roof.

"I'm sitting on top of the world," Carter sang to himself as he drove another nail into the roof. "Just rolling along, just rolling along…"

"I think my hands are frozen. Are we almost done?" LeBeau asked through chattering teeth.

Carter looked up as if he had just noticed LeBeau beside him. "Huh? Oh yeah, I guess." He shrugged and continued working. His song, however, did not return.

LeBeau watched as his friend worked sadly in silence. He could tell Carter was pouting. He also knew why he was. He was probably a little put out that LeBeau hadn't trusted him. It occurred to LeBeau that his time in charge would be a lot easier if Carter wasn't sore at him.

Taking a deep breath his put down his hammer. Carter looked up at him and gave him a funny look. "Listen Andre, I am sorry I did not wait for you to get me out."

"S'okay. You didn't know what was going on."

"Well, next time I am thrown into the cooler, I will wait at least ten minutes before I slip into the tunnels. Bien?"

Carter smiled and let out a little sigh. "Sure, bee-yeh." LeBeau fought the urge to roll his eyes as his native language was being butchered. "And if I get thrown into the cooler, I'll wait until you get me out."

LeBeau laughed. "Oh, I would end up being thrown in with you."

They both grinned and returned to their work. They were almost finished when the sound of a car at the main gates caught their attention. Both prisoners looked up and watched as a staff car pulled into camp and stopped in front of Klink's office.

"Now who do you think that is?" Carter asked, glancing over to LeBeau. LeBeau shrugged and watched the car intently. His heart crashed against his ribs when he saw a small man in a black uniform step out and make his way up the steps to Klink's office.

Major Hochstetter.


	4. The Flu to End All Flus

Major Hochstetter

LeBeau scowled. Why did he have to come and stir things up? And to think that this morning he'd considered a tiny hole in the roof a big problem.

"Hey!" Carter suddenly shouted. LeBeau jumped and lost his balance. With a yelp, he flailed his arms wildly to regain his balance. Carter quickly grabbed him and steadied him. "Sorry."

"You're sorry," LeBeau muttered under his breath. He glanced at the ground and scrunched his nose. It was not such a long drop, but it still would've hurt- especially since he hadn't been prepared for it.. He shook his head and threw Carter a tiny smile. "What is hey?"

"I remember Klink said something about the Gestapo breathing down his neck. I wonder what it's all about."

LeBeau stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Je ne sais pas. Hmmm, why don't we listen in on the tap in the colonel's office."

"All right, let me just finish off the roof. I'll meet you there."

LeBeau made his way to the edge of the roof and eased himself to the ground. Shaking off the snow that had piled up and his jacket, he entered the barracks as quietly as he could and crept into the colonel's office.

Colonel Hogan was asleep, taking loud, laboured breaths. LeBeau sighed. He sounded awful, but no worse than the men in the other room. How on earth am I supposed to get any sleep tonight, LeBeau thought selfishly, before quickly shaking the thought from his mind.

He had just pulled out the coffeepot and plugged it in when Carter came up behind him and sat down. "All done," Carter reported. "That roof isn't going to fall in anytime soon boy. In fact, I bet-"

"Shh," LeBeau admonished, pointing to the coffeepot. He didn't have to worry about the colonel- he was dead to the world. Carter made a quiet 'oh' and nodded before turning his full attention to the tap. The sounds of Klink greeting Major Hochstetter soon filled the room.

"Major Hochstetter, what a surprise-"

"It shouldn't be," Hochstetter interrupted, "I told you yesterday that I would be coming by."

"Oh, of course, I remember now. Something about a new factory?"

"Yes, a new ball-bearing plant is beginning production tonight and we need guards to protect it against saboteurs."

"An excellent idea Major Hochstetter. If there is anything I can do-"

"Quiet Klink and I will tell you what you can do." There was a moment's pause. "Where is Colonel Hogan?" Hochstetter asked suddenly, sounding genuinely curious.

"Colonel Hogan?" Klink repeated, not sure he and the Major were on the same train of thought.

"Yes, I would've expected him in here by now, making some protest or complaint."

"As it happens, Colonel Hogan is sick with the flu. He won't be bothering us." There was another silence and it made LeBeau's skin crawl. He could just imagine the dark little smirk on the Gestapo man's face when he heard Hogan was sick. LeBeau felt anger bubbling inside him, but ignored it and instead paid attention to the conversation in Klink's office. "In fact," Klink continued, "more than half the prisoners here are sick. It's getting ridiculous."

"Good, then you will be able to spare some men to guard the new factory."

"Me? My men? I'm afraid that's impossible Major Hochstetter."

"WHY?!" Hochstetter demanded.

"Because half my guards are sick as well."

"Half your guards are sick, half your prisoners are sick, it all evens out," Hochstetter said dismissively.

"Why can't the Gestapo guard the new factory?" Klink ventured timidly.

"I have no men to spare." There was another pause before Hochstetter continued ruefully. "More than half my men are sick with the flu."

"Perhaps half the underground saboteurs are also sick?" Klink suggested.

"KLINK!" Hochstetter yelled in frustration.

LeBeau had heard enough and quickly pulled the cord out of the coffeepot. "A ball-bearing plant?" he said slowly. "I wonder if Colonel Hogan knew about this?"

"I don't think we should wake him up to ask," Carter said, jerking a thumb towards the ailing officer.

"Do you think the Hammilburg Underground has already targeted it?"

"Probably not," Carter responded with a wry grin. "The Underground's been shut down- seems half their agents have the flu."

LeBeau snorted at the whole ridiculous situation. "Incroyable. The flu to end all flus." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Then I suppose it is up to us."

"Up to us what?"

"We will blow up the factory. Tonight, before production begins."

"Gee, I don't know LeBeau. I mean, we've had enough trouble just keeping the camp afloat."

"Oh a little mishap. Everything is fine now."

"Yeah, but I don't think we oughta push our luck."

"Oh come on Carter, it is only a little mission. And you will get to use explosives." Carter thought about it for a moment and then grinned. "There you go. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You're right… So, have you got a plan?"

LeBeau scratched his chin and took a moment to think. "Wait a moment. Whenever the colonel needs to come up with a plan, he paces." LeBeau folded his arms across his chest, grabbing his elbows, and squared his jaw as he started to pace. Carter had to keep himself from giggling at LeBeau's impersonation of Hogan.

"That's it!" LeBeau said, snapping his fingers.

"You have a plan?!" Carter asked, surprised it had come so fast.

LeBeau gave a sheepish grin. "Non. But that's what the colonel always does." He began to pace again. Finally he threw his arms up and shrugged. "I do not think I need to come up with a brilliant plan. It seems simple to me- we go, we set some explosive, blow up the factory, and come home."

"Sounds good to me."

"Me too. Simple is best. Sometimes I think the colonel likes to come up with complicated plans just for fun."

Carter just shrugged. The colonel's plans were complicated, sure, but they always worked. LeBeau's simple way had yet to be tested.

LeBeau grinned confidently. "We will leave right after roll call- get ready."

"We gonna tell the colonel what we're doing when he wakes up for roll call?"

"Nah," LeBeau said, as he looked over his shoulder at Hogan. "We should surprise him."

As it turned out, it was LeBeau and Carter who were in for the surprise. For you see, while LeBeau was plotting, something truly incredible and unexpected had happen in Klink's office, to which the prisoners were unaware. For once in the entire history of Stalag 13, Klink had won an argument against Major Hochstetter.

"KLINK!" Hochstetter yelled in frustration, slamming his fist onto the table. "I must have men to guard that plant, and you will provide them!"

Klink jumped a bit at the loud thump. "But Major Hochstetter, as much as I would love to co-operate with you- I've always been most eager in the past if you will remember- I simply can't spare any men." Hochstetter gave Klink a withering look. Klink shrunk a bit under the gaze, but even the death glare could not change the situation. Summoning all of his courage, Klink pressed on, hoping he could somehow convince the Gestapo Major to see reason.

"Klink," Hochstetter seethed, but said no more.

"If I give you have my men, that would only leave me with five. That's barely enough to operate the main gate. And _you_ would only have five men to protect the factory. So you see, it would just be ridiculous to give you my men."

"I have come to only expect the ridiculous from you Klink," Hochstetter said darkly. "But you're right." Hochstetter looked at his feet to make sure the earth hadn't split open underneath him. He'd never thought he would see the day when Klink was right about something. Straightening up, Hochstetter began to pace, his ever present scowl sinking deeper into his face. "There's only one option left."

"What's that?" Klink asked, looking at the Major fearfully. He was relieved and pleased that the Gestapo man had sided with him for once, but he dread what other plans he might've had.

"There is an SS regiment stationed about fifty miles from here on R and R," Hochstetter explained with a scowl. "I will speak to their commander, Colonel Deutsch… though he will probably skin me alive."

Klink hid a smirk when he saw the look of dread on Hochstetter's face. It was nice to know that there was someone out there who could intimidate Major Hochstetter… but then again, that meant there was someone out there who could intimidate Major Hochstetter! Klink shivered.

Hochstetter suddenly grabbed Klink's phone. "Ja, get me Colonel Deutsch at SS HQ outside of Dusseldorf… Ja, it's important… Colonel Deutsch?" Major Hochstetter quickly outlined his problem over the phone. A look of sheer relief washed over his face, much to the amusement of Klink, and he quickly hung up. "It's settled then. Colonel Deutsch will send a group of his elite SS to guard the factory until replacements can be arranged… soon."

Klink clapped and jumped out of his chair. He quickly poured himself and the Major a glass of schnapps- which the Major accepted, but with a look of longsuffering disgust. "Excellent Major Hochstetter, that was brilliant thinking on your part. Those saboteurs don't stand a chance!"


	5. The Signal Oil Company Presents

"We now rejoin our daring heroes, the dashing young Carter and the little Frenchman LeBeau, as they make their way through enemy territory towards the doomed factory."

"What?" LeBeau whispered, truly confused at Carter's random outburst. He came to an abrupt halt and gave Carter a questioning glance.

Carter smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Sorry. But have you ever wondered how everything we did would sound on the radio? I bet this'd be an even bigger hit than 'The Shadow'. Except to make it really good, we need a girl or two-"

"Carter you are crazy," LeBeau muttered. "Now be quiet."

The little Frenchman rolled his eyes as Carter nodded and readjusted the pack of explosives he was carrying. With a glance heavenwards, LeBeau continued to carefully pick his way through the dense foliage.

He didn't foresee any trouble. In fact, this whole operation had been ridiculously easy thus far. After contacting the Underground for any information and the approximate location of the factory they had radioed London- nearly breaking Kinch's beloved transmitter in the process- to offer them the chance to bomb it. They'd agreed to do it, as long as LeBeau didn't mind waiting two weeks. LeBeau, being French and therefore lacking patience, refused and decided to take the task upon himself; with a little help from his gung-ho demolitions man, of course.

So, he and Carter had snuck out right after roll call- which Klink had kept up because of Major Hochstetter's presence. LeBeau, feeling somewhat guilty for keeping the colonel in the dark, had told him they were going out. The colonel had been out himself- at least mentally- and really hadn't heard or understood LeBeau at all. Still, it made the Frenchman feel better that they weren't hiding anything from the officer. And he felt, had Colonel Hogan been healthy, that he would've ordered the ball-bearing plant destroyed anyway.

"This is going to be a piece of pie," Carter said brightly a little while later. "We haven't passed a single patrol yet!"

"Oui," LeBeau agreed quietly, "it will be nice and simple." Somehow, he felt a little disappointed at that. Pulling off a mission this simple wasn't really going to impress the colonel- it was too mundane, too ordinary. Not that he wanted the jinx it, but LeBeau still wished he'd had something bigger, more important and daunting to take on. The fact that the colonel had been very reluctant to leave LeBeau in charge grated the corporal's nerves a little. This was his chance to show the colonel what he was really capable of. It was a chance to show the colonel he could do more than cook!

"Hey, you think that's it up ahead?" Carter whispered, crouching a little lower to the ground. LeBeau followed his finger to where a few lights were shining through the forest.

"Hmm," LeBeau said with a nod. "The Underground wasn't far off this time. Wait here, I'll go look it over."

"All right, be careful huh."

"Mais oui. Nothing can go wrong. This is fool-proof." He waited until he was out of ear shot before whispering a small 'thankfully' under his breath. "Be nice," LeBeau admonished himself. After all, Carter wasn't a bad sort. He'd even managed to get him out of the cooler. Of course, that wasn't hard, Carter had only had to go up against Klink.

Slipping silently to the edge of the snow-covered brush, LeBeau surveyed the situation.

This operation had stopped being ridiculously easy.

It was now pathetically easy.

The factory was laughable unguarded. In fact, from his vantage point, he couldn't see anyone but an old man at the front gates who appeared to be asleep. He and Carter would have to come up with a more exciting story to tell the boys when they got home- or when the others were well enough to fully appreciate their heroics.

Turning his head slightly, LeBeau made eye contact with Carter and waved him over. Carter silently came up beside him. A wide grin covered his face when he saw the factory's laughable security force. "We could probably just waltz through the front gate if we wanted," Carter said with a little giggle.

"Now that would be something to tell le colonel," LeBeau agreed with a small laugh of his own. "Come on, we'll cut through the wire there. Where are you going to place the dynamite?"

Carter scanned the compound, hoping something would pop out at him- a truck full of ammo parked by a supply hut perhaps? Hmmm, no such luck. "Well, since there aren't any guards patrolling, I have enough dynamite that we can string it around that main building there," Carter said, pointing out the building for LeBeau to see.

"That will work?"

"It'll be good enough," Carter said with a shrug. "Best we can do without getting inside."

"Ah oui, you are probably right." LeBeau had to admit that Carter knew more about this than he ever would. "Let's go."

Together, the two prisoners scampered out of the forest and crouched outside the high wired fence that ran around the factory. LeBeau pulled out a pair of cutters and quickly snipped a hole big enough for them to get through. They carefully made their way in, but quickly dropped the pretence of being sneaky. There was no need for it. No one was outside to see or hear them. And the noise coming from inside would keep anyone there from hearing them.

"C'est ridicule," LeBeau muttered as they approached the building.

"Say what?"

"C'est ridicule. This is ridiculous."

"What makes you say that?" Carter asked as he slipped his pack off his shoulders. "Here," he carefully handed LeBeau a few sticks of dynamite.

"Oh, I don't know. This is just too easy," LeBeau said with a shrug, taking the offered dynamite.

"Easy's good. I don't mind easy every once in a while." Carter gently placed his explosives, before taking another few sticks and making his way around the corner. "'Course, easy missions wouldn't make for a very exciting radio show." LeBeau just rolled his eyes. They worked in silence until the whole building was rigged. "Okay, I'm gonna set it for about five minutes," Cater explained as he set a small clock that was attached to some wires. "Let's get outta here."

"D'accord." They were just at the edge of the forest when LeBeau stopped. With a small smile, he turned back towards the factory and crouched down.

"What's wrong?" Carter asked curiously.

"Nothing. But since we are not in a big hurry, do you want to watch it go up?"

LeBeau received the reaction he wanted. Carter's eyes lit up and a big smile swallowed his face. "You bet I do boy. This'll be really good. BOOM! BLAM! SHABANG! Not as fun as watching a train, they're the best, but this'll be good I tell ya. Oh boy."

"All right, all right, calm down," LeBeau grinned. He didn't really know what had possessed him to suggest the idea, but it was a good way to repay Carter for everything he'd done so far.

The two sat in silence. Carter glanced down at his watch, eagerly counting down the time until the building went up in a thunderously loud ball of flames. There was still about a minute to go when another noise filled the air. Carter kept his attention on his watch and the compound ahead, but LeBeau, who really didn't share Carter's pyromaniac tendencies, glanced around. He stiffened slightly when he spotted a troop truck heading down the road towards the factory. "Carter, I think we should go."

"Just wait. 30 seconds, 25 seconds."

"Now," LeBeau said, panic rising inside him. As the truck came closer, he could make out the soldier driving it. "Looks like Elite SS."

"What?" Carter asked, snapping himself out of his countdown. He glanced at the road, his eyes growing wide. "Holy smokes. You don't think they're heading for the factory."

"Doesn't matter. It'll go up in ten seconds and the next thing they'll do is come searching the forest. Let's go!" And without further argument or commentary, the two saboteurs jumped up and made a run for it. They'd barely made it five feet when the sound of a building blowing up and falling in on itself roared through the night. The force of the explosion was enough to make LeBeau stumble a little.

Chaos quickly followed the explosion. Shouts filled the air and a moment later, rifle and machine gun fire zipped into the forest. "Careful what you wish for," Carter panted, casting LeBeau a wary glance.

"It's okay, we are far enough ahead of them. We will be all right."

"What if they follow our trail all the way back to Stalag 13?" Carter panicked.

"They won't. Don't worry."

"Okay, if you- whoa." Without warning, though LeBeau figured he should've expected it, Carter tumbled down and hit the snow with a thud. LeBeau skidded to a stop and looked behind him.

"Get up, vite!"

"My foot's stuck!" Carter explained, slightly exasperated, as he tried to work his foot free from a tree root. LeBeau growled and ran over, crouching down beside his friend. Behind them, he could hear German voices getting closer and closer. Grabbing onto his friend's foot, he began trying to free it. He was about to suggest he take his boot off, but quickly changed his mind. Carter's boots were US Army issued- certainly that would raise a few questions among their German pursuers.

It took a precious moment or two, but finally, they freed Carter's foot. "They're too close, we'll never lose them," LeBeau said frantically as they began running again.

Carter peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, their pursuers were dangerously close, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. He looked around, trying to spot some place to hide, but the options were somewhat limited and discouraging. Looking up, he saw their only way out of this mess.

"LeBeau, see that big, bushy fur tree up ahead?" LeBeau nodded. "I bet it's thick enough to hide us."

"What do you mean? Climb that tree? Are you crazy?!"

"Got a better idea?"

"Me, climb a tree?!"

"If I can do it, you can do it."

"Oui, that is true," LeBeau muttered. "But they will see us for sure!" They both glanced over their shoulders.

Carter grimaced. "You're right, we gotta lose them for two seconds!"

"How?"

"I dunno. It was my idea to climb the tree. It's your turn to think."

"I am always thinking…"

"Well?"

LeBeau reached for his handgun. "Find someplace to hide. I will run that way and fire a shot or two. They will turn to see where it came from, and then you can climb up. And be careful not to leave too many tracks!"

"What about you?" Carter panted.

"Don't worry about me. I'm small, I can slip past them easily."

Carter gave him a doubtful look, but now was not the time to argue. "Good luck," Carter whispered before diving into a nearby bush.

"Bonne chance, Carter."

"That too," the bush to the left said.

Making a hard right, LeBeau ran away from his friend. Turning slightly, he fired his gun towards the Germans. Shouts filled the air. LeBeau fired another shot. Just as he wanted, the Germans changed directions to follow him.

Not that he wanted to brag or anything, but Carter had been the tree climbing champion of Bullfrog North Dakota. Of course, he had never before attempted to climb a fir tree. It was an experience he was not quite prepared for. His first challenge was finding a branch low enough to grab hold of. The lowest branch was just out of his reach. Making sure the coast was clear, Carter burst from his hiding place and took a running jump. He barely caught the branch and dangled in the air for a moment before pulling himself up. He noticed, to his chagrin, that his act had caused the snow to shake off the branch. Hopefully, it would be too dark for the Krauts to notice. And hopefully, the extra snow would help cover his tracks on the ground.

Moving as quickly as he dared, he grabbed another branch a little higher and hoisted himself up. The gritty bark scratched his face, leaving an unpleasant stinging feeling on his wet cheek. Carter wiped it off, but only managed cover it with sticky sap and more grit from the tree. Scowling, Carter moved higher and higher and finally stopped where the needles were the thickest. That would provide him with adequate cover, but it also provided him with an endless source of annoyance. The wet needles and the grit from the bark seemed to magically appear all over him- in his hair, inside him gloves and even in his pants.

It was not a pleasant sensation. Nor was the sinking feeling inside his gut as he waited for LeBeau to join him. How the shorter man was going to make it up, he didn't know.

"Give him another minute," Carter whispered to himself. "Then you can go down and find him." Carter thumbed his gun and shuddered. Some radio hero he would be- squeamish to use a gun. But, if it meant saving LeBeau, he could do it… right?

Turned out, Carter's inner debate was for nothing, for a moment later, he heard someone making his way up the tree. Glancing down, Carter saw LeBeau and nearly shouted his relief. But, good sense obviously forbade that, and so he contented himself to giving a smile and a wave. He saved further conversation until LeBeau was up next to him.

"How'd you lose them?" Carter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I ran in a few circles, fired a few shots. I just hope they don't pick up my tracks."

Carter looked up. "It's snowing pretty hard… we might get lucky."

Voices down bellow caught their attention and the two of them both sucked in a breath and held it. Carter gripped onto LeBeau's jacket sleeve, looking for some sort of comfort as the beams from the Germans' flashlights cut through the darkness bellow. LeBeau bit his lip and tried to remain as quiet as possible. If he could, he would've stopped his heart from pounding against his chest, for fear that it would be loud enough to give them away.

LeBeau tensed as he heard the Germans approach.

Suddenly, and without warning, a burst of bullets broke the silence. Someone shouted and then there was more silence.

That was it, they were dead- LeBeau was sure of it.

But instead of hearing shouts for surrender, he heard laughter. Great, the Boche were laughing at them for being so stupid. How dumb was Carter? Like climbing a tree would really save them.

"It is a rabbit, you fool!" one of the Germans laughed. A few more joined in the laughter.

"It could have been a saboteur."

"Of course! The rabbit blew up the building!"

"Quiet! We must find them! Where did they go?"

"I don't know. Split up, we will search this whole forest if we have to!"

LeBeau held his breath and pressed himself as tightly as he could against the tree. His heart stopped when a German stepped right under their position and looked around. He pulled out his gun, ready to fire the moment the soldier looked up. But, to his relief, he didn't. Looking around one more time, the soldier shrugged and went on his way.

"Elite SS my eye," Carter breathed.

LeBeau winced and prayed that he was the only other living creature who had heard that.

He wasn't.

A squirrel, unnoticed until now, looked at them curiously before darting past them and disappearing from sight.

An eternity seemed to go by before LeBeau felt it was safe to start his heart and breathing again.

"Ya think they're gone?" Carter asked.

"I don't know. They can't be too far off. We may have to stay here all night."

"Hmph. After blowing the factory to smithereens, we find our heroes up a tree while the menacing SS scour the forest bellow."

"What?"

"The radio program. Hey, what do you think we should call it?"

"This is ridiculous. How can you talk about radio shows at a time like this?!"

Carter shrugged. "Dunno. But don't you think it's a good idea?"

"Oh, who would listen to a show about a bunch of POWs?" LeBeau asked, shaking his head.

"Well, we're not your average POWs."

"Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"Be quiet."


	6. A Man, His Gun, and His Dog

It was still an hour or two before dawn when LeBeau finally felt it was safe to climb down the tree and venture back home. They'd have to make their way carefully, but LeBeau doubted that even the Elite SS would continue the search for more than two hours- they'd been stuck up that tree at least five or more.

Getting down had been awfully fun. LeBeau's rump still hurt.

"Ya think they're still looking for us?" Carter whispered as they moved through the dense brush.

"No, they probably gave up about the time you were telling me about your corn worshiping ceremonies."

"Corn worshipping?! It's a corn festival and it's the biggest one in the county!" Carter replied defensively.

"Right, right, and people come all the way from Crab Apple Junkyard to join in."

"Junction. Crab Apple Junction."

LeBeau just shook his head and glanced heavenwards. "One day, mon ami, I shall have to take you to Paris and show you the truly great things in life."

"The Eiffel Tower?"

"Sacre bleu," LeBeau muttered under his breath. Suddenly, the sound of a few twigs snapping not too far away caught their attention and both of them hit the snow. LeBeau held his breath and waited. Finally, he slowly got back to his feet.

"What was that?" Carter whispered, glancing about the dark forest.

"Some animal probably. Let's go." He'd only taken a few steps when Carter grabbed his arm and jerked him back to the ground. "What?"

"That's no animal," Carter breathed, pointing ahead of them. LeBeau paled when he saw the outline of a man, no more than twenty feet away from them. "These guys don't give up."

LeBeau studied the outline for a few moments. It came closer and, even through the dark, LeBeau could start to make out some of his features. "It's not the SS. It's a civilian." Sure enough, a man, dressed in heavy winter civilian clothing was stepping about the forest, a mean-looking shotgun in his hands. "Probably out hunting."

"You think he's alone?"

LeBeau looked around, searching for a hunting companion. He couldn't see one, and was about to say so when a dog started barking. LeBeau winced and turned his attention towards the sound. He let out a silent curse when the dog seemed to pick up a scent and began moving dangerously closer to them.

LeBeau tried not to panic. Maybe the dog hadn't smelt them. Maybe he had picked up a rabbit. Maybe he'd just ignore them and continue on his merry way. And maybe there really was a Santa Claus. LeBeau scowled when the dog came closer and closer until they were practically nose to nose. The dog seemed surprised, but quickly let out a string of loud barks, baring his frighteningly large teeth at LeBeau and his companion.

"Shhh," LeBeau admonished, but the dog didn't listen and continued to make an unholy racket.

"Rudolph! Rupolh, what is it?" The armed civilian hollered. "We have no time for games. We have to find that wolf before it-" the man's sentence trailed off when he came closer. "What is this!" It took a moment for him to get over his surprise before he levelled his shotgun at LeBeau. "Who are you?"

"Uh," LeBeau started, trying to think up a conceivable lie.

"Silence. Up, both of you, slowly." His gun menacingly trained on them, the civilian took in their appearance and scowled. "What are you doing all dressed in black? Out for an evening stroll in the woods?" LeBeau opened his mouth to speak, but the man pushed his shotgun a little closer. "Or for blowing up a factory?" LeBeau and Carter exchanged nervous glances. "Ah ha! You are saboteurs."

"No, we just-" LeBeau began, but the man cut him off.

"Quiet! Now, march!" The man and his dog circled behind them. With a push to the back with the muzzle of his gun, the German herded his prisoners through the woods. They walked in silence, neither Carter nor LeBeau wanting to risk a back full of lead. LeBeau cast a nervous glance to the sky and scowled as it was becoming just the tiniest bit brighter. He caught Carter's eye and raised an eyebrow, hoping his American colleague had come up with a brilliant plan to get them out of their current predicament. Carter just shrugged. Figured. LeBeau must've been crazy for thinking Carter had a solution.

He should've taken the dog and its owner out when he'd had the chance. Now it was too late.

It wasn't until they reached the road that LeBeau really started to panic. Not too far away, he could make out a little house and a barn, surrounded by a wide field of snow. Once there, the man would probably get hold of the Gestapo and then they'd be done for. As they got closer, the dog ran off, but LeBeau knew that the gun and the finger on its trigger were still there.

LeBeau frantically went through every possible avenue of escape in his head. They all ended the same way- with two bodies full of buckshot. Understandably discouraged, LeBeau allowed himself to be escorted up to the house. Once inside, the man herded them into a corner and reached for a phone, his gun trained on them the entire time. "Now be still and I shall call the Gestapo."

LeBeau paled and looked up at Carter. Carter gulped. Suddenly, his face lightened up, as if inspiration had just struck. He let out a small little giggle. "You hear that? He is going to call the Gestapo," Carter giggled in a high, nasally sort of voice. A wicked grin crossed LeBeau's face and he let out a small laugh as well.

Their armed companion looked at them strangely. "And why shouldn't I? You are saboteurs." At that, LeBeau and Carter let out another laugh. "They will probably reward me."

"Yes, they will reward you. They _might_ let you have a blindfold for your execution," LeBeau laughed.

The man paled and set down the phone. "What do you mean?"

"We _are_ the Gestapo," LeBeau said confidently.

"I don't believe you." Despite his words, the man shook slightly and paled even more. "Why are you dressed that way then?"

LeBeau glanced at Carter, hoping he had come up with an explanation. "We are dressed this way because-"

"We are pretending to be the saboteurs," Carter picked up.

The German snorted and picked up the phone again. "Really?"

LeBeau shot Carter a dirty look. Pretending to be saboteurs?! What sort of ridiculous explanation was that? As the man brought the phone closer to his ear, LeBeau's brain kicked into overdrive. "Really. We had information that the saboteurs would be meeting with an underground contact. When we captured the saboteurs, we took their place in the forest in order to trick the contact and gain access to the Underground."

The phone slowly went back onto its cradle. "I see…" With wide eyes, the man quickly realized what LeBeau had just said and implications that went along with it. "I assure you, I have no part of the Underground. I am a loyal citizen of the Third Reich! If you were saboteurs, I would turn you over to the Gestapo!"

"Silence!" Carter barked. "You have already ruined our operation! We may never get another chance like this."

"I swear I did not know. Why didn't you say something?!"

"We had to be sure you were not part of the Underground," LeBeau explained with a dark gin. "You are not. But we will be making a report to our superiors about you."

The man was shaking now. He dropped his shotgun as if it doing so would placate the angry Gestapo men before him. "Please, I beg of you-"

"Quiet!"

"We have wasted enough time," Carter scowled. "We must leave immediately and return to headquarters."

"Of course… perhaps you'd like to call for a car? Please, use my phone." He timidly held it out for them.

"No, we must go," Carter said firmly.

Realizing his blubbering and attempts at civility had done nothing to pacify the Gestapo, the man frantically reached for a jar on the nearby counter and opened it. "Please! Perhaps you'd like some schnapps? Some cookies? My wife made them last night. They are delicious! PLEASE take some!"

"The Gestapo don't eat cookies!" LeBeau growled, sounding appalled.

"Of course, of course. But, please, don't-"

"Stop grovelling! We must go!" Carter snapped. His face softened slightly when the man cringed. "Perhaps by the time we make it to headquarters, we will forget all about you. Come Fritz," Carter motioned for LeBeau to follow him. "Boy, I thought he'd never stop talking."

Turned out Carter wasn't quite out of hearing range when he'd said that. The man, though badly shaken, noticed the change in tone, not to mention the change of languages, and gasped. LeBeau whirled around at the sound and reached for his gun as the German reached for his. "All right, hold it," LeBeau, who was faster on the draw, ordered.

"You are an American!" the man accused, pointing at Carter.

Carter winced. He wanted to kick himself, but not as much as LeBeau wanted to do it for him. "Very good! Now be quiet!" LeBeau turned a dark eye to Carter. "Tie him up."

"Right. Sorry," Carter said meekly as he grabbed a curtain sash.

"You're sorry," LeBeau muttered. "You were doing so good too!"

"I didn't think he would hear," Carter apologized as he tied the man up with the sash. "What're we gonna do with him?"

"Nothing. What can he do to us?"

"Nothing, I guess," Carter replied. Looking around, he found nothing to gag their one-time captor with, and so pulled off the man's wool cap and stuck it in his mouth. "All right, let's go."

Leaving the unfortunate German behind, LeBeau and carter quickly dashed out of the house. "You have any idea where we are?" Carter asked. LeBeau shook his head. "Maybe we should ask him for directions?"

LeBeau just glanced heavenwards. "You're not serious, are you?"

Carter grinned. "No. Come on, let's go. Maybe we can get back to camp before light."

LeBeau just sighed. "With our luck?"


	7. Impossible, But, Oh, So Tempting

LeBeau was not a fool. He learned from his mistakes.

He was no longer the optimist he'd been when the colonel had first handed him the reins of the operation. No longer would he use the phrase "what could possibly happen?" or any other variation of it. No. Now, he was bitter and cynical. He was prepared for the worst.

And so, it came as a rather bitter disappointment when the rest of their journey back to Stalag 13 was uneventful. In fact, it was still a little dark when they made it the tunnel entrance. The camp, woefully under guarded due to the flu, was painfully easy to escape into- the searchlights weren't even scanning the woods.

Sluggishly, LeBeau and Carter made their way into and through the tunnels. "Poor Kinch," Carter murmured as they came to the section under Barracks Two. "You think he'll be alive enough to hear us and get off his bunk?"

"I hope so. I do not want to have to come up in Barracks Three and sneak back into our barracks," LeBeau yawned, shedding his wet black clothes and changing back into his uniform.

"How long is this flu gonna last?" Carter sighed as he followed LeBeau's example and changed.

"Everyone's just got sick yesterday," LeBeau pointed out.

"Feels like longer. Boy, I hope no one dies from it." Carter absently knocked on a wooden support beam.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "You think anyone here would let a little flu get the better of them? After all we've been through? C'est ridicule."

"Yeah, I guess." Carter shrugged and smacked on the ladder. He waited for a minute before smacking it again. They could hear something thump on the floor above them. Finally, the entrance opened. The bottom of Kinch's bunk completed the ladder allowing Carter and LeBeau climbed up into the barracks. Carter stepped over the frame of the bed and waited for LeBeau to come up before closing the entrance again. He looked down at Kinch, who was holding his head while leaning against his foot locker. "Thanks Kinch. You okay?"

"Am I dead yet?"

"You sure look like it," Carter smiled gently as he helped Kinch back into his bed. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

Kinch groaned. "Guards came in… took colonel… I tried to stop them…"

A cold hand clenched LeBeau's heart. "What?! Kinch, what is this?"

"Not long… after the explosion…" Kinch managed as he groaned and held his head. "Dumb flu. I could've stopped them…"

Carter looked at LeBeau with wide, fearful eyes. They both looked at Kinch, seeking confirmation, before sprinting to the colonel's office. They threw open the door, but Hogan's bed was empty.

"Sacre chat!"

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Carter cried, quickly losing his grip on his senses. "You don't think Hochstetter took him do you?! Holy smokes! What if they did a roll call after the explosion and we weren't here and so Major Hochstetter figured Colonel Hogan was behind all this and they took him away and he's on his way to Berlin right now to be interrogated and the Gestapo will come here and-"

"Carter!" LeBeau shouted, his heart racing. Carter was babbling, but his babbling was sending chills up and down LeBeau's spine. What if that was exactly what had happened. He could just picture the Colonel, already sick as a dog, strung up by his thumbs while Major Hochstetter interrogated him. But then, if that were the case, then Hochstetter probably would've had his men here already, tearing the place apart. And all the prisoners would've been in front of a firing squad before they had even gotten home. There had to be another explanation for all this.

"What're we gonna do. Holy smokes!"

"Carter, you're not being reasonable!"

"Well, what else coulda happened to him? Come on, we'll bust into Gestapo HQ and free him!"

"Are you crazy? Bust into Gestapo headquarters? How are we going to do that?"

"Well, I'll just dress up like some big Kraut general, waltz in there and demand they release him."

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Oui, that would turn out very well. Maybe we should ask Schultz if he knows anything," LeBeau suggested, trying to keep a level head.

"Right, good plan." Carter took a few deep breaths.

"Of course. Now let's go." LeBeau led Carter out of the colonel's office and into the main room. Peeking his head out the main door, he scanned the compound in search for the large sergeant of the guard. "Schultz, Schultz," he hissed when his prey rounded the corner. Schultz glanced over and raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself. "Yes, you, Schultz, come here, quick."

Schultz looked around and waddled to LeBeau. LeBeau opened the door and ushered Schultz in. "Good morning Schultz!" LeBeau greeted brightly.

Schultz threw him a suspicious glance. "Good morning LeBeau. Why are you so happy?"

"Why shouldn't I be happy Schultz?"

Schultz thought about it for a minute. "I don't know? Maybe because everyone is sick?"

"Or maybe because Major Hochstetter is here?" Carter suggested.

"Ha, Major Hochstetter left right after that big explosion. Didn't you hear it?"

"Oh, of course we did. So… Major Hochstetter left?"

"Ja. He was not too happy."

"Can't imagine why," LeBeau shrugged. "Didn't he insist on a roll call?"

Schultz snorted. "He wanted to, but the Kommandant said everyone was too sick. Major Hochstetter came in to make sure Colonel Hogan was still here though. And then he got mad and left camp." Schultz shot them a suspicious look. "How come you are asking me? You were in the barracks too… weren't you?"

"Of course we were Schultzie! We were in our bunks." LeBeau scratched his chin. Hochstetter obviously hadn't taken the colonel- even he would be able to tell the colonel was in no condition to blow up a factory. And if he had, Schultz would've said something. But then, where was the colonel? Did Schultz know? Or, maybe, in a flu induced fit of insanity, the Colonel had gone out the tunnel for some unknown reason. "Anything else interesting happen?"

"Like what? What can be more interesting than an explosion?" Schultz asked, eyeing LeBeau strangely.

"My thoughts exactly," Carter piped in.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. It was time to just come out and say it. "Listen Schultz, Colonel Hogan is gone. He's not in his barracks."

Schultz laughed. "Oh that. You don't have to worry about Colonel Hogan. I know where he is."

"Where?" LeBeau demanded. "Where is he?"

* * *

Torture at the hands of the Gestapo would've been preferable to the fate which had befallen poor Colonel Hogan.

At that very moment, Hogan was dreaming of how wonderful it would be if he could chew his own ears off. Not even the soft bed and warm blankets he found himself in could make up for the truly heinous torture he was being forced to endure. The torture being Klink.

Trapped in Klink's guest room, Hogan had no choice but to listen to the camp's Kommandant talk… and talk… and talk. Sleep would not claim him. Sleep was no match for Klink's ramblings, which effectively pushed it back.

"You know Hogan, I never knew how you really felt for me. Why didn't you tell me?"

What was he talking about? Hogan just groaned and rolled over, trying his best to block Klink out.

"You know, maybe after the war, we can get together and I can introduce you to my father. I'm sure he would like you. And then we can go fishing, hunting, you know, bonding things.

"I never had a brother before. Oh, I had plenty of sisters, but never a brother. You know Hogan, this mutual admiration we share for each other- this brotherly bond- is probably what makes Stalag 13 the best prison camp in Germany. "

"Oh please," Hogan groaned under his breath. Where had Klink gotten this ridiculous idea from? "Look Klink, I ju-"

"Please, we don't have to be so formal. We're brothers, you and I. Call me Willy."

"Willy, listen, I ju-"

"And I will call you Robert?"

Surely someone had to save him. No… everyone else was sick. He was doomed… How exactly would one chew his own ear off? There had to be a trick to it. Or was it one of those things that was physically impossible- like licking your elbow? Oh great, he was doomed. He could feel his IQ dropping with every word Klink uttered. By the time help came, he'd be nothing more than a blubbering mass of jelly, incapable of intelligent thought.

"And perhaps, after the war, you can show me around America. Introduce me to some pretty frauleins. I suppose you have a whole list of girls you know. Oh! And baseball. I've never understood that game. Let me get this straight, you have to hit a ball and then-

"Robert? What's wrong? What are you doing?" Klink asked urgently, watching Hogan rock his head from side to side, snapping his mouth open and shut.

Dang. It _was_ impossible.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Klink jumped out of his chair and whirled around. "What is the meaning of this?" he cried as LeBeau and Carter popped in. Suddenly, a foul stench hit his sense of smell. "What is that smell?!"

"Our apologies, Herr Kommandant," LeBeau said humbly. "But we just came to see Colonel Hogan."

"Right. And we're bringing him this special remedy that Sergeant Wilson suggested," Carter piped in, indicating the package he was holding.

Klink scrunched his nose and nearly gagged. "What is that? Get it out of here!"

"But sir, this is sure to work. Heck, it's already cured the men in Barracks Four."

"Oui. And are we glad le colonel is in here. I don't think we could stand having one more man with this on his chest in our barracks."

Klink paled. "But what about a nice béarnaise sauce? That would work just as well."

"That was for last season's flu. This is the only thing to tackle this one."

"Well… I suppose… nothing is too good for Colonel Hogan…"

"Of course not," Carter smiled as he began opening the package. The smell intensified.

"On second thought," Klink said quickly, "I think we should contain the smell- keep it in one spot." He turned to Hogan. "If it's okay with you Colonel, I suggest that-"

"Swell idea," Hogan slurred. "We'll catch up later… brother…"

Klink beamed and stepped aside, discreetly covering his nose, to let Hogan's men take him out. LeBeau and Carter shared a wink before collecting the Colonel and quickly heading out.

"What _is_ that?" Hogan groaned, trying his best to keep from throwing up at the smell.

"It was my idea Colonel. I had to come up with some way to get Klink to kick you out. A little bit of sulphur, one of Newkirk's dirty socks, and to make it truly disgusting, a bit of the potato soup from the guards' mess tent. We stirred it all together and-"

"I get the picture," Hogan moaned, his stomach churning. "Just get rid of it, quick." Carter nodded and tossed the foul-smelling confection in the nearest trash bin. "And what the hey made Klink think I was all the sudden his best friend?!" Hogan managed to sound quite angry, despite his rampaging sniffles.

Carter ducked his head sheepishly. "That was my idea sir."

"Carter… why do you hate me?"

"I don't! Gosh colonel, you're just like a-" Carter grinned mischievously- "you're just like a brother to me."

Hogan groaned. "How'd you like to be court-martialled, Private Carter?"

"Oh, do not be angry colonel. It was for a good cause."

" _Nothing_ was worth that," Hogan murmured as they finally reached their barracks.

"If it will make you feel any better, I was stuck up a tree with Carter for five hours- he cannot be any better than Klink."

"Hey!"

Hogan looked up and gave his two men curious glances. "Just what have you two been doing in the last twenty-four hours?"

"When you're better colonel," LeBeau grinned. "It's a crazy story."


	8. Trouble Comes to a Boil

Trouble had a way of slinking into the background. But it never truly disappeared. At least, not at Stalag 13. Right now, trouble was merrily simmering on the backburner, leaving our heroes with a false sense of security. The illusion of calm was heightened in the passing days when the men of Barracks Two slowly, but surely, started to recover. Only a few days later the Colonel was as fit as a fiddle and back in charge like he was supposed to be. Everything was right in the little world of Stalag 13. Or so it seemed.

Hogan whistled cheerfully as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring the taste that had alluded him during the last days he'd spent in feverish exile. The other men in the barracks were slowly rousing themselves out of sleep. Looking around, Hogan grinned and took another sip of coffee.

"Well, the place is still standing. You guys didn't do half bad a job." When he got no response, he glanced at LeBeau's bunk and noticed the blob under the blanket hadn't moved. The same was true for Carter. "All tuckered out from the burden of command LeBeau?"

"ACHOO!"

Hogan nearly jumped at the loud outburst from Carter, but slowly grinned. "Uh-oh," Newkirk said as he leaned over the side of his bunk and looked down at Carter. "Got a touch of the flu, Andrew?"

Carter just groaned. "What about you LeBeau?" Hogan asked, leaning up against the corporal's bunk. LeBeau echoed Carter's sentiments. Hogan grinned. "Well, don't worry. Maybe I can ask Klink to put you two up in his guest bedroom. You know, as a brotherly favor to me. Maybe he'll even entertain you if I ask him nicely."

"Please mon colonel… I already want to die," LeBeau moaned pitifully.

"Hmm, I guess I'm not going to get a full briefing on everything that happened here until you guys are better, am I?"

"Don't count on it," Carter said with a sneeze. Miserably, he wrapped his blankets even tighter around himself.

Hogan scrunched his nose. "It serves you right, you know. Making Klink think he was my best friend- a brother! He won't leave me alone!"

"It could be worse. At least the camp didn't fall apart," Kinch said calmly. "And when it did, they fixed it." He pointed to the patched up roof.

"Don't get all optimistic on me Kinch," Hogan groused with a tiny little smile. "Let's see you stand five continuous hours of Klink."

"They did manage to blow up an entire factory all by themselves," Newkirk pointed out.

Hogan grinned. "That's true. I think one day I should just go on vacation and let you guys run things for a while- you can certainly handle it."

Just then, Schultz came in through the door. "It's cold out there," he complained as he swiped some snow off his shoulders.

"You're cold?" Newkirk scoffed incredulously. "With all that blubber?"

"Haha, jolly joker," Schultz scowled.

"What can we do for ya Schultz?" Hogan asked as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant would like to see you in his office."

Hogan grimaced and shot his two sick men dirty looks. "All right. Let's go see what Willy wants."

"Willy?" Schultz repeated, raiding an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and I'm Bobby. You know, I think I ought to talk Klink into changing it to Billy. Billy and Bobby. Has a nice ring to it. You know I once had a-" Suddenly realizing what he was saying and that he was sounding suspiciously like Klink, Hogan's eyes grew wide and he shook his head fiercely. "Must still be a little sick. Either that, or Klink is rubbing off on me. Come on Schultz, let's go."

Hogan hugged himself as he followed Schultz out into the snow and across the compound. He let out a tiny growl of annoyance as he trotted up the steps to Klink's office. He'd get Carter for this. His usual interactions with Klink were bad enough. The problem with this whole thing was that he couldn't just tell Klink the truth. He had to keep playing up to him, lest Klink get his nose bent out of joint. Contrary to popular opinion Klink had a lot of power in the camp- at least the power to send Hogan to the cooler. It wasn't a place Hogan especially liked to be. And even though it wasn't especially hard to break out of, the only other place he could wander around would be the tunnels, which were just as bad.

But then, what was worse, an eternity of Klink yammering on and on as if they were best friends, or a month in the cooler.

Hogan decided on the former. His sanity could only take so much.

Hogan stepped into Klink's office to see the Kommandant sitting at a table with a chess board. "Oh, Hogan, I'm glad you're here. I thought we could play a little game of chess, talk about a few things. Schnapps?"

"Sounds good," Hogan shrugged as he sat at the table. There were a few benefits to Klink being so nice, Hogan decided as he took the schnapps. But they weren't nearly enough. "Listen, Klink-"

"Willy," Klink reminded him, waggling his finger with a stupid grin on his face.

"Let's keep it Klink. I mean, what would General Burkhalter say if you were being so nice to your prisoners? He'd probably want you to get your head examined and then he'd send you off to the Russian Front!"

Klink paled and swiped the schnapps away from Hogan just as he was bringing it to his lips. "You're right! I can't forget you're the enemy."

"How 'bout you wait until after I'm finished my drink and our game to remember," Hogan suggested, reaching out for the glass.

Klink handed it to him and sat across from him. "All right- we can be brothers after the war!" He held up his own glass. "To brothers?"

Hogan fought the urge to roll his eyes, but held up his glass as well and quickly gulped it down. "Brothers."

"Wonderful. Now-" Klink was mercifully cut off by the telephone. Klink sighed and picked it up. "Yes, who is this?" He suddenly straightened in his chair. Hogan cocked an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. But at the same time, he felt his insides flop. Something bad was going to happen, he knew it. "Major Hochstetter, how very nice to hear from you," Klink said through his teeth. Hogan scowled- definitely something bad.

Hogan watched as Klink turned a little red. "Saboteurs? Hogan?! I keep telling you, he was sick when that factory blew up! Incapacitated! You saw him! He- yes, I'll shut up and listen."

Hogan cocked his head to one side, slightly intrigued at the small fight Klink had put up. 'I keep telling you' he'd said. Interesting. Did that mean this wasn't the first time Hochstetter had called about this? Hogan hadn't thought Klink had that much backbone. It was almost touching in a weird sort of way.

"That's ridiculous. All the prisoners were sick. All of them… half of them… in Hogan's barracks?" Klink scratched his chin. "Yes, there were two who were not… How should I know their names? The cockroach and-" Klink snapped his fingers wildly and looked to Hogan, who simply shrugged. "I don't know, an American." Klink suddenly held the phone away from his ear. Hogan could hear Hochstetter's triumphant 'AH-HA!' from where he sat. "You're coming here? Really, you're being ridiculous… Of course I am not questioning the Gestapo! Yes, we'll be waiting for you! Heil Hitler!" Klink hung up the phone and slowly sank into his chair, holding his head.

"Feeling sick Kommandant?" Hogan asked, rising from his chair. "What Major Harebrained want?"

Klink let out an exasperated sigh. "I swear Hogan, that man is insane. There was an explosion at a ball bearing plant a few days ago and he seems convinced you had something to do with it."

"Me?! I was on death's door a few days ago! I couldn't even keep a saltine down!"

"I've been telling him that for two days. He's not convinced. He said he has a witness who saw the saboteurs and identified one as an American."

"Preposterous!" Hogan declared as his insides bunched up.

"Indeed," Klink agreed. "He's even bringing his witness here to inspect the prisoners- why, Hogan, you're as white as a sheet."

"I guess I'm not feeling as well as I thought," Hogan muttered. "I think I better get back to bed."

"Good idea. Have a nap- but don't get too comfortable. I am sure Major Hochstetter will want to talk to you."

Hogan scrunched his nose. "Lucky me. See you later." Hogan threw Klink a quick salute and left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he bolted out of the building and to his own barracks. Throwing open the door, he received a few curious glances, but ignored them and instead went straight for Carter and LeBeau.

"Wake up LeBeau. You too Carter. Now!"

"I died… And I didn't leave a forwarding address," Carter muttered sourly.

"Sorry, the US Post hunted you down. Get up, now!"

"Blimey. What's going on Colonel?" Newkirk asked, hopping down from his bunk. Carter moaned softly as his bunk shook.

"LeBeau, I want the full story. I want to know everything that happened while I was sick."

LeBeau groaned and sat up, rubbing his cheek. "Qu'est-ce que-"

"No French LeBeau. English, English and fast!"

"What's going on Colonel," Kinch demanded, disturbed by Hogan's urgency.

"Major Hochstetter is on his way over here. Seems he has some sort of witness who saw the saboteurs who blew up that factory, and he thinks we're responsible- which we are," Hogan explained, glancing at his two sick men accusingly. "Care to elaborate LeBeau?"

If it even possible, LeBeau grew whiter. "Sacre chat. I knew we should've killed him."

"Who?!" Hogan demanded impatiently.

"Some civilian. He caught us in the forest and was going to turn us over to the Gestapo."

"What? How'd you get out of that?" Newkirk asked, slightly shocked at the revelation.

"We convinced him that we were the Gestapo," Carter explained.

"And it worked. Until you blew it!" LeBeau growled, holding his head. "That, that fool gave us away and-"

"There isn't time for the blame game," Hogan interrupted. "You think this guy'll be able to recognize you?"

"Don't know Colonel. It was dark and we had black greasepaint on… I don't know," Carter shrugged helplessly before falling back onto his pillows. "I think I may be sick," he muttered.

Hogan began to pace the barracks. "Great, just great. This could put our entire operation at risk. This guy recognizes you, they haul you off to Gestapo HQ and find out about the whole kit-and-caboodle. And then we _all_ get shot."

"More likely, the guy recognizes them and we all get shot right then and there," Kinch said grimly.

Hogan narrowed his eyes. "That's what I hate about you Kinch- always with the worse case scenarios." Hogan tapped his side and then grabbed his elbows, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe we can cut Hochstetter off before he comes here. Nah, to conspicuous… Maybe General Kinchmeyer can phone Gestapo HQ and tell them we've captured a couple of American commandos? No, the timing on that would be too convenient for someone like Hochstetter- he's already too suspicious." Finally he let out a sigh. "Kinch, have everyone stand by to evacuate the camp."

"You sure Colonel? There's still a lot of guys in camp who are still sick."

"They either travel sick, or stay here and let the Gestapo get them." Hogan waved his hand in the air. "They'll be fine. Most of us are better, we'll help them if we have to."

"What's the plan Colonel?" Newkirk asked.

"There's still-" Hogan was cut off by Schultz who threw open the door, letting in a cold burst of air.

"Roll call!" Schultz shouted.

"In a minute," Hogan growled.

Schultz blinked, surprised at the harsh tone in Hogan's voice. "Forgive me Colonel Hogan, but you have to come out right now! Major Hochstetter will be here in a few minutes!"

"What he do? Run every red light in Germany?" So much for putting the camp on alert. Plan A was dead. It was time to make up Plan B.

"I know nothing, nothing! All I know is that he is coming and you all have to fall out for a special roll call!"

"We can't come out Schultz. Carter and LeBeau are sick."

"Then they can stay in here. The rest of you- raus, raus!" Schultz held opened the door and motioned the prisoners outside. "Raus!" Schultz waited until Hogan, Newkirk and Kinch were out before slamming the door shut and shooing the prisoners forward. Grudgingly, they formed their lines and Schultz began counting. "Ein, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, acht-"

Hogan exchanged glances with Newkirk and nodded towards Schultz. Newkirk winked as Schultz approached. "Oh Schultzie, I think I'm still sick! I may faint!" Newkirk cried as he wobbled on his feet. Putting his hand to his forehead, he quite dramatically twirled and fell backwards into the big guard.

"Was ist los? Newkirk, are you all right?!" Schultz hollered as he caught the Englishman. Easing him down to the ground, he fanned him with his helmet as the other prisoners gathered around and began making a ruckus. Hogan slipped back into the barracks and rushed to LeBeau's bunk.

"LeBeau, LeBeau, wake up," Hogan growled, shaking the corporal and more than a little annoyed that he had fallen back asleep at such a time.

"Oh please Colonel Hogan, stop. I will be sick."

"Listen LeBeau, there's a very good chance that if this guy recognizes you, they'll haul you off to Hammilberg. If we're lucky, they won't immediately shoot us all and we'll come rescue you. Just remember, name, rank and serial number, that's it. Hear that Carter?"

"Uh-huh," came the muffled reply from the other bunk.

Hogan turned back to LeBeau. "Don't worry- I've got a plan." It was only a small lie.

"Oui…" LeBeau said drowsily. "I am sorry…"

"Apologize later. Hopefully, there'll be nothing big to be sorry about." Hogan added another silent 'hopefully' before heading out the door.


	9. Hochstetter's Promise

Hogan barely noticed the cold as he stood outside his barracks. In fact, he was sweating. He almost wished he was still sick. But then, if he was, he wouldn't be able to help his men and it looked like they were going to need all the help they could get.

"Report!" Klink hollered as he marched up to Hogan and his men. Schultz turned towards the officer and gave a smart salute.

"Herr Kommandant, all present or accounted for."

"Very good. Major Hochstetter will be here in a few minutes and he will see that all this is foolishness."

On cue, a staff car drove into camp through the gates and came to an abrupt halt in front of Klink's office. Major Hochstetter stepped out and straightened his coat, his eyes searching out Hogan and locking onto him. With a supercilious smirk, he waited for another men to get out of the car before making his way over to Klink and the men of Barracks Two.

"Major Hochstetter," Klink greeted grimly, "all the prisoners are present and accounted for and awaiting your inspection as you requested. But I would like to protest-"

"Protest Gestapo business?" Hochstetter growled, glaring at Klink before returning his gaze to Hogan.

"Of course not Major Hochstetter," Klink stammered. "I only meant that this whole thing is ridiculous. Hogan and his men are _prisoners_ , they could not have blown up that factory even if they had not been sick."

"You said yourself that not all the prisoners were sick. Now," Hochstetter oozed over to Hogan and gestured to his companion, "this is Hans Kruger. Look familiar Hogan?"

"I dunno. You ever been to Cleveland?" Hogan asked with a cheeky grin.

Kruger raised an eyebrow and looked at Hochstetter in confusion. "I don't recognize this man Major."

Hochstetter scowled and began marching up and down the two rows of prisoners. "How about this one," he asked, pointing out Newkirk. Kruger shook his head. "Any of these men?" Kruger just shook his head, causing Hochstetter to turn a dark shade of red. Hogan grinned to himself and rocked on his heels. "BAH! Schultz, are you sure these are all the men from this barracks?"

"Jawohl, Herr Major. They are all here," Schultz said proudly. "All fifteen."

Hochstetter grimaced and clenched his fists. "Fine, we will- wait…" Hochstetter perked up and counted the prisoners. Hogan mentally winced. "There are only thirteen men here."

"Oh ja, the cockroach and Carter are inside. They are very sick Herr Major," Schultz reported.

"And they are inside, right now?" Hochstetter demanded with such ferocity that Schultz could only nod in reply. A dark smile crossed Hochstetter's face as he marched up to Hogan and glared at him. "I have you now Hogan, right where I've always wanted you."

Hogan looked around, trying to appear calm even as his insides were twisting and churning. "Really? Well, this has been my spot in roll call for the last three years. Why didn't you come sooner?"

"BAH!" Hochstetter turned to Kruger. "We will go see these men." And with that, he turned on his heel and stomped into the barracks.

* * *

Carter was dead.

He was sure of it. There was no other way he could feel so rotten. His head felt like a helium balloon, but at the same time, his nose felt like it was full of lead. His blankets were too hot but the air was too cold. This must've been what Hell was like.

It seemed rather unfair to him that he hadn't gone to heaven. After all, he wasn't a bad sort. In fact, in all humility, Carter had figured he'd get to see that Pearly Gate Al Jolson sang about. Or was that Golden Gate? Must've been Golden Gate. Come to think of it, he'd never been to California either.

Carter didn't have much time to think about the enormity of this injustice because his mind had no sooner wandered to that when the door to the hut burst open, letting in a blast of cold air. Carter shivered and pulled the blankets close, only to throw them away a moment later.

Blinking his eyes a few times, he managed to lift his head high enough to get a glance at the intruders. With a groan, he buried his head into the pillows.

"Trying to hide are you?" he could hear Major Hochstetter bark.

"Go away and let me die," Carter muttered sourly.

Before he could register what was happening, Hochstetter grabbed him by the collar and jerked him out of bed. Carter let out a little yelp of surprise and vainly struggled against the black-gloved hand that gripped him. "I will take you with me and let you die," Hochstetter growled through his teeth. He jerked Carter forward and pulled his head up. "Is this the man you saw?"

Another man was there, looking at him. Through the haze of his flu, Carter recognized him as the civilian they had tricked only a few days before. He paled but otherwise tried to pretend he didn't care.

Kruger peered at him and then nodded. "Ja, this is the man Major."

Carter could see Hogan slip into the barracks behind Kruger. "Colonel, what's going on?" Carter asked in confusion.

"We have finally caught you. All of you," Hochstetter barked before Hogan could say anything. He let go of Carter, who dropped to the ground with a thud and made his way over to LeBeau. "And what about this one, Herr Kruger?" Hochstetter asked as he wrestled LeBeau out of his bunk. Kruger nodded. Hochstetter turned a dark eye to Hogan and snapped his fingers. A moment later, two of his guards came in. "Take these two men away," he ordered, pointing to Carter and LeBeau. The guards nodded and grabbed the two prisoners and began dragging them out, but Hogan stepped into their path and blocked the door.

"I protest Major Hochstetter. You can't take these men. Under the Geneva Convention-"

"The Geneva Convention doesn't apply to spies and saboteurs!" Hochstetter growled.

"Spies? Saboteurs? You have no proof of that!" Hochstetter just pointed at Kruger, who straightened and held his chin high. "Oh come on, who're you going to believe? Him or me?" Hochstetter just glared at him. "Well, you just met him? We've known each other for a long time- that's gotta count for something."

Hochstetter smiled wickedly. "Oh, it does Colonel Hogan. In fact, I think that, as a favor to you, I won't have you shot right away."

"Well good because I haven't-"

"First I will take your men and interrogate them until they tell me everything about you and what you do here! And then I will take you to the Fuhrer and _he_ will shoot you!" Hochstetter cried, stomping his foot on the ground on every second word. He turned and faced Klink, who had also joined the group. "And then I will take you and _you_ will be shot Herr Kommandant!"

"Major Hochstetter, you're being unreasonable," Klink chuckled nervously. "Hogan and his men are prisoners. This man must be mistaken."

"We will see," Hochstetter said darkly. "Now, out of the way Hogan. Or I'll take back what I said and shoot you and all your men right now- proof or not." Hogan glared down at the Gestapo man. Without taking his eyes off him, he took one step to the side. "Thank-you. All right, take them away."

"You're not going to get anything out of them Hochstetter, because there's nothing to get," Hogan said as Hochstetter marched past him.

Hochstetter turned back and grinned. "You should know what the Gestapo is capable of Hogan. Even if Herr Kruger was mistaken and they are innocent, by the time I am finished with them , they would admit to being butterflies if I wanted them to." And with that, the despicable Gestapo officer marched out of the barracks. "Klink!"

"Yes Major Hochstetter," Klink replied, casting a nervous glance towards Hogan.

"My men are to stay here. I will send re-enforcements as soon as I get to headquarters." He turned to one of his men. "Take Colonel Hogan and Klink into Klink's living quarters and post at least two guards to stay with them at all times until I get back here."

"It will be done," the Gestapo agent said, clicking his heels.

"If you so much as think of escaping Colonel, my men will shoot you," Hochstetter threatened. "Take him away."

From behind, two men in black Gestapo uniforms came and grabbed Hogan's arms. Another man grabbed Klink. "Major Hochstetter, you cannot do this! This is _my_ camp! You can't hold me prisoner here!"

Hochstetter ignored him and his men jerked Hogan and Klink away. Hogan looked back and nodded to Kinch.

Kinch nodded and watched helplessly as the colonel was taken away and LeBeau and Carter were thrown into the Gestapo's truck.


	10. Living Right

The funny thing about a crisis is that it is a very uncertain, difficult, and worrisome time. But at the same time, it requires quick, decisive action if complete disaster is to be avoided. So naturally, one would think a crisis probably wouldn't be the best time to let jealousies and petty bickering get in the way. Unfortunately, that was _exactly_ what happened at Stalag 13.

Kinch was never one to panic but he couldn't think of a better time to start. The moment the truck carrying Carter and LeBeau drove through the front gate, Kinch sprang to action. Grabbing Newkirk, rather forcefully if anyone bothered to ask the Englishman, Kinch marched into the hut and began to pace. The others from barracks two followed and waited.

"Newkirk," Kinch said as he continued to pace.

There was something in Kinch's tone that made Newkirk feel the overwhelming urge to jump up and salute but he controlled himself. "What's the plan Kinch?"

"Put the camp on alert. Start spreading the word- all barracks are to be ready to leave on my say so."

"Leave? Blimey Kinch, we've got to be thinking of ways to save Andrew and LeBeau."

"I am," Kinch said firmly, "and they don't include you."

Newkirk balled his fists. What made Kinch all high and mighty? Where did he come off saying he wasn't part of the plan? "Now listen here mate, the colonel didn't put you in charge and I'm going to save Carter and LeBeau!"

Kinch stopped pacing and turned to Newkirk, shaking his head slightly. "Listen, I'm sorry. I know you want to save the guys, but the thing is-"

"The thing is, I've got a plan."

Kinch looked at him in surprise. "What is it?" Kinch asked slowly, preparing himself for something outrageous and bull-headed.

"The way I figure it, we just arm everyone in the camp and let the Gestapo have it. Then we just go off to Gestapo HQ, do the same thing there and spring Carter and LeBeau." Yup, outrageous and bull-headed and not to mention ludicrous. Kinch rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Well, might as well if we're going to abandon camp anyway," Newkirk said defensively.

"Abandoning camp is a last resort," Kinch explained. "I've got an actual plan-"

"That was an actual plan!"

Kinch just shook his head and turned to the rest of the group. "Fuller," he said, pointing out a private, "you and Jefferies get going and put the camp on alert." Without hesitation, both privates nodded, and headed out the door, only to be met with a very large, very mean-looking soldier in a black uniform.

"Sorry mate, but if we could just squeeze through," Fuller said somewhat brazenly as he tried to slip past the guard.

"Nein! No one is to leave the barracks or you will be shot!"

"Hey, take it easy," Kinch said calmly, stepping up. The guard just shot him a look of disgust. "Never mind Fuller, it's not important." Kinch pulled Fuller and Jefferies back and nodded to the guard. "We'll stay in our huts, don't worry," he assured him before shutting the door. "All right, get going through the tunnels," he ordered a moment later. "And be quick. That guy might just decide to come in for a visit." Fuller and Jeffries nodded and hurried to the tunnel entrance.

"And tell 'em to arm themselves," Newkirk ordered as the two started to climb down the ladder . Fuller and Jeffries looked back to Kinch, who just sighed and nodded. Newkirk scowled and turned to Kinch. "All right then, what's your brilliant plan to save them?"

Kinch fought to control himself. The only thing that kept him from slugging the Englishman was that he knew Newkirk was just acting out of worry. But the one thing he didn't need right now was Newkirk making things more difficult- one of the reasons he'd wanted him out of the way. Newkirk was stubbornly loyal to the men here, most particularly LeBeau and Carter, and that clouded his judgement, making him impetuous. That was another thing Kinch didn't need. Right now, the situation called for calm, clear-headed thinking.

"First, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?! The Gestapo probably has Louis and Andrew strung up by their thumbs by now, and you want me to calm down while you waste time?! Blimey! If the colonel were here, he'd agree with me."

"Only if there was no other way."

"Fine then," Newkirk said stubbornly. "What's your plan then? Let's have it."

"We need to contact the Underground and get them to-"

"You're handing this over to the Underground?!" Newkirk was growing more and more irate. Kinch however, kept a level head.

"Newkirk, we can't do anything. Did you see how many guys Hochstetter brought in? Even if we could get out and past all them, Hochstetter's going to be expecting us to pull something." Newkirk just grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. Kinch was right, and he knew it. "Now, I'm gonna go send a message to the Underground and outline the plan before one of the guards gets the brilliant idea to come guard us in here."

Newkirk waited until Kinch had lowered himself down the ladder before peering down at him. "You still haven't told me what this plan of your is. Or if it's even going to work!"

"Don't worry, it will. The colonel himself will be proud of this one."

* * *

As it turned out, at the moment Hogan would be proud of any plan. Heck, he'd even settle for Newkirk's. Right now, he was trapped in Klink's quarters- again!- trying to act nonchalant about the whole matter, when really, his insides were twisting themselves into knots.

Colonel Klink paced nervously in front of the sofa that Hogan lay on, while the door was being guarded by two of Hochstetter's men. "This is outrageous," Klink cried as he paced. Suddenly he stopped pacing and sat beside Hogan. "Carter and the cockroach didn't _really_ blow up that factory? Did they?" Klink asked, his eyes pleading for Hogan to say no.

"Are you kidding?! Do you think I'd let Carter anywhere near explosives?"

Klink jumped up again. "You're right," Klink said, throwing his arms up in the air and letting them slap against his sides. "Schultz would make a better spy." He began to pace again, only to stop and take a seat by Hogan. "Wait a minute, are you saying you have explosives?"

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Would I lie to you Willy?"

Klink thought about it for a moment. "I suppose not…" Suddenly, his body tightened and he stamped his foot on the floor. "Willy?"

"Well, after all, we are brothers," Hogan said, mustering a cheeky grin.

Klink tossed a worried glance over his shoulder at the guards by the door. "After the war," he said, a nervous shake in his voice. Hogan looked a little hurt, but then shrugged. "Oh Hogan, how do we get ourselves into these messes?"

"Maybe one of us isn't living right?" Hogan suggested.

Klink grunted. "That one of us is you!" he accused.

"Me?! I'm a prisoner in the toughest POW camp in all of Germany! I don't even get a chance to have fun!"

Klink puffed out his chest. "That's true. Wait that means I must not be living right."

Hogan grinned. "Well, what with all those girls who crowd around you every time you go into town, I'm not surprised." Hogan suddenly stopped and shook his head. He couldn't figure out why he was playing up to Klink, massaging his ego. Really, there was no way to manipulate Klink into getting them out of this mess. All he could do with two machine guns trained on him was sit back an wait. Hogan shrugged. He had to admit, he found a sort of peculiar comfort in their conversation- it took his mind off his troubles. But that, Hogan decided instantly, was something he couldn't afford to do. He had to come up with a way to get out of Klink's quarters and a way to rescue Carter and LeBeau.

Jumping up, he could sense the guards tense. He turned slowly to find their machine guns pointed right at him, fingers resting gently on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment. "Sit down Hogan," Klink demanded, looking at the guards.

"Just wanted to walk around the room sir," Hogan explained, peeking at the stove from the corner of his eye. Slowly, cautiously, he walked to the stove and held out his hands, soaking in its warmth. His chance for escape was so close, yet so far. Looking over his shoulder at the guards, Hogan let out a small sigh.

Kinch would be thinking of something, he was sure of it. He would just have to trust him.

There was nothing to do but wait.


	11. The Plan

"Major?"

Hochstetter rolled his eyes and turned to Kruger. Kruger recoiled and shrunk beneath the shorter man's searing gaze. "Major, sir, now that I have identified the saboteurs, do I have permission to leave?"

Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Hochstetter turned from his informant. "Yes, yes. Go. But be warned, we may have further need of you, so do not go far!"

"Of course Major," Kruger nodded before stretching his arm into the air. "Heil Hitler!"

"Yes, yes, heil. Now get out. I have important things to do."

Kruger didn't wait to be told twice and quickly left. Hochstetter waited for him to leave before focussing his attention on his two prisoners.

He had waited a long, long time for this day. Finally, he would have Hogan. It was only a matter of time. But without proof, even the Gestapo had its limits, at least as far as POWs were concerned. And until he had proof, Hogan and his men were still POWs. An eye witness was great, but couldn't all together be trusted explicitly. And so, with that thought firmly in his mind, Hochstetter rubbed his hands together and slowly circled the two men huddled on the floor. They would provide the proof for him.

Hochstetter studied them intently. They were both miserable wrecks, sniffling and coughing in the cold room. Easy targets. But which one would break first? A dark grin encompassed Hochstetter's face. No, which one would break last? What better way to make Hogan suffer than to slowly, painfully, extract information from the men closest to him?

Making his decision, Hochstetter snapped his fingers and a moment later, one of his men came up beside him. "Take the American away. Cell 31."

"Jawohl Herr Major," the sergeant said, clicking his heels before he and another sergeant hauled Carter roughly to his feet and pushed him out of the room. Hochstetter waited for them to leave and the door to shut before turning on his victim.

Pulling off his gloves, he smacked them rhythmically into his palm as he paced the room, his eye always trained on the Frenchman.

For his part, LeBeau just looked back at the major, his eyes heavy and glazed. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep in a nice soft bed, with warm blankets. Why was it so cold in here?

No, he couldn't let his mind be distracted. That was exactly what Hochstetter wanted. LeBeau forced himself to concentrate on his present situation, ignoring his pounding headache and sore muscles. Name, rank and serial number, that was all Hochstetter was going to get out of him. Not even that! If LeBeau couldn't even remember his serial number while he was healthy, there was no hope that he would remember it now!

Hochstetter eased himself into the chair across the table from LeBeau. "Now, what shall we talk about?" Hochstetter said in a pleasant tone that betrayed the sinister look in his eyes.

"How about the Geneva Convention?" LeBeau suggested lightly, smiling in satisfaction when Hochstetter's face turned a dark shade of red.

Hochstetter slammed his fist onto the table. "The Geneva Convention does not apply to saboteurs!"

"I am a prisoner of war. My name is Louis LeBeau, caporal, serial number… serial number…"

"Enough!" Hochstetter barked as he stood. Snaking his way across the room, he coiled around LeBeau and brought his face close to his ear. "I know exactly what you are. And you will tell me everything about Colonel Hogan and his operation."

LeBeau cringed and wiped his ear, trying to erase the tickling sensation Hochstetter's hot breath made. "LeBeau, Louis," he said as evenly as he could, following Hochstetter's movement out of the corner of his eye.

Much to his chagrin, the Gestapo major didn't seem the least bit put out. In fact, Hochstetter was quite delighted. The fun was just beginning.

Turning to his remaining subordinate, Hochstetter smirked. "String him up."

* * *

Fuller and Jeffries scrambled up the entrance, followed closely by Kinch. Their timing was impeccable, for as soon as the trap closed, the door to the barracks swung open and their friendly neighbourhood SS man stepped in, machine gun in hand.

"Well if it isn't our favorite Kraut," Newkirk greeted as he took a sip of his tea. "Care for a spot of tea?"

"Quiet!" the guard barked, pointing his gun at Newkirk. "I was ordered to stay in the hut." He glared at the prisoners before setting himself in front of the door. Newkirk and Kinch exchanged nervous glances. But since the Kraut hadn't shot them right up, they figured they were safe for the moment.

Kinch casually slid onto the bench beside Newkirk, who pulled out a deck of cards. "Make contact?" Newkirk muttered, looking over his shoulder at the guard.

"Yeah, I gave them the entire plan. They're sending their top men- Cinderella and Snow White. All they have to do is stick to the script."

"Marvellous, just bloody marvellous. They know and I don't! When are you going to tell me your grand idea?"

Kinch shifted in his spot and peeked back at the guard again, who was now watching them curiously. "In a minute." Standing, Kinch slowly made his way to the stove and warmed himself as best he could. Grabbing the coffeepot from the stovetop, Kinch poured himself a mug and let out a big yawn. "It's freezing in here."

"Like a ruddy icebox," Newkirk agreed. "Pour me some of that coffee, Kinch."

"Sure thing. Anyone else need some coffee? Good stuff, we just got it in the last Red Cross parcel." A few men gathered round. Kinch peeked over his shoulder to see the guard watching them sip the hot brew enviously. A small smile tugged at Kinch's lips and he winked at Newkirk. "Oh, I'm sorry, would you like some?" Kinch asked.

"Don't give him any!" Newkirk protested. "There's barely enough for us. Besides, it's against regulations to share with prisoners, it is!"

"Bah! I will take it all! Then it will not be sharing!" the guard barked, grabbing the coffeepot from Kinch and stealing a mug from another prisoner.

"Hey!" Newkirk cried as he grabbed the pot and tried to pull it out of the German's grasp.

The guard pushed him away and levelled his gun at him. Newkirk took a step forward but stopped himself, raising his hands into the air. The guard smirked and poured himself a cup of coffee. Arrogantly tipping his nose in the air, he gulped down a mug full. He was about to pour himself another drink when he suddenly collapsed in a heap.

"Good job Newkirk. How much you slip him?" Kinch asked as he propped the guard up against the door.

"A couple of pills. He'll be out a while. But he'll be awful mad when he wakes up."

"Not if he doesn't know he fell asleep. Now, you wanna hear my plan or not?"

"I wouldn't have risked my life for a pot of coffee if I didn't!" Newkirk cried impatiently, sitting down at the table and looking up at Kinch.

"Okay, okay. It's pretty simple. We're going to attack Major Hochstetter's only evidence- Kruger."

Newkirk cocked an eyebrow. "Kruger? They're gonna off him?" Jumping up, Newkirk threw his hands into the air and started to pace. "Blimey! What's that supposed to accomplish?! It'll just prove he was right!" Newkirk was justifiably angry and became even more so when Kinch grinned.

"They're not going to hurt him," Kinch assured the hot-headed Englishman. "They're just going to discredit him."

* * *

Sitting in a large, cushy chair near his fireplace, Kruger let out a content sigh as he sipped his beer. He was a hero, he told himself. He had served the Fatherland by helping to catch two dangerous enemy commandos. If only the Fatherland had repaid him in some tangible way.

But to ask that of the Gestapo was decidedly stupid. But there would be other benefits, Kruger told himself. Once the town heard of his heroics, he'd never have to pay for another beer at the Hofbrau again! And with the amount of beer he drank, perhaps that was better than anything else the Gestapo could offer him.

A knock at the door roused Kruger from his thoughts. Checking the clock on the wall, Kruger raised an eyebrow. Who would be calling on him at this hour? Shrugging, he lifted himself out of his chair and made his way to the door. Standing on his front steps were his two neighbours, whom he often played cards with at the Hofbrau.

"Max, Heinrich, come in! What brings you here?" he asked as he ushered them in. Now would be the perfect time to hint about his exploits. Perhaps they would even insist on taking him out right now to buy him a drink.

"Hans, we heard you had been taken by the Gestapo," Max explained, sounding concerned. "What happened."

Kruger grinned and waved his hands in the air. "Ah, that is a story, my friend." Until this moment, he had kept his unfortunate encounter with the saboteurs a secret- after all, how could he explain how easily they had fooled him? But now that the situation had a happy ending, he was quite excited to tell the whole story. "Come, sit. I will get you some beer!"

"Danke," Heinrich said as they entered the kitchen. "But unfortunately, we have no time. We are getting a package ready to be sent."

"Oh?" Kruger said curiously. "Getting your Christmas presents sent early. I do not blame you. With the bombings it takes forever for mail to get through. It will-"

"No, not Christmas presents," Max interrupted.

"Then what?" Kruger was a little confused. Why had these two come over again? His eye grew wide when Max suddenly grabbed him. He struggled, but was no match for the other two men, who quickly knocked him out.

"That was easy," Max remarked. Heinrich just shrugged. "Plant the maps. I'll pack up a suitcase and we'll get him on his way to London."

"It's a shame," Heinrich, or, as he was known in the underground, Cinderella, remarked. "Generals and scientists I don't mind shipping off, but Hans is just a nobody civilian who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"It is him or Papa Bear and the operation," Max pointed out.

Heinrich scrunched his nose. "Well, he wasn't much of a card player anyway." And with that, the two underground agents went about their plans.


	12. Theories Drown in a Babbling Brook

Hochstetter growled and slammed the door shut behind him. The Frenchman was useless! Completely, utterly useless! In fact, he was so useless, Hochstetter was beginning to doubt his identity as a saboteur. What sort of spy fainted at the sight of blood, even his own?!

"Ridiculous!" Hochstetter cried as he stomped down the hallway.

All was not lost, however. There was still the American. Hochstetter grinned darkly. Ah yes, the American. The man looked about as dumb as a post, to use an American expression. He would talk. As long as he had a higher threshold for pain than the cockroach.

Some yelling from the main hall grabbed Hochstetter's attention. What was going on?! He debated the merits of ignoring it, but as the ruckus grew, Hochstetter let out a frustrated growl and changed his course.

Two Gestapo officers were shouting orders to a few soldiers. "What is going on here?! Who are you?" Hochstetter demanded as he marched up to them. The two officers, captains, turned and quickly saluted him.

"Captains Müller and Zempel. We are sorry Major Hochstetter, but we need a few men to help us search for an underground agent who has vanished."

"Vanished?" Hochstetter repeated. Hogan! He knew he should've stayed at Stalag 13! Klink, that fool! He was responsible for this, one way or another.

"Jawohl! We have had him under surveillance for a while. Unfortunately, we were called to Berlin for two weeks. When we returned, we looked in on him and he has disappeared!" Hochstetter let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Hogan after all. Still, before he went to interrogate the American, he would place a call to Stalag 13 to make sure Hogan was heavily guarded.

"Dummkopf!" Captain Müller hissed. "I knew we should have arrested him before we went!"

"And keep Herr Himmler waiting?"

The mention of Himmler made Hochstetter straighten a bit and he turned his attention back to the two captains. Just who were they? He didn't recognize them, and yet they seemed to know him. More importantly, they knew Himmler. It didn't necessarily surprise Hochstetter that they were not familiar. Most of the other officers in Hammelburg viewed him as a bit of an eccentric- a lunatic with crazy ideas about Stalag 13. Well, he didn't need them! Soon he would have all the proof he needed and these fools would pay for doubting him!

"Take your men! I have more important things to do than worry about your stupidity!" Hochstetter growled.

"Jawohl," they said in unison, clicking their heels. Hochstetter rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "All right men, the man's name is Hans Kruger, but we believe-"

Hochstetter stopped dead in his tracks and whirled on his heel. "What was that you said?" Hochstetter seethed.

Müller blinked in surprise. "I was simply telling these men about the-"

"The name!" Hochstetter practically screamed. "You said Hans Kruger!"

Again, the captain looked confused, not sure why Hochstetter was so angry. "Ja, Hans Kruger. But we believe that he is part of the Hammelburg underground- code name Cinderella."

Hochstetter's face turned a dark red and he began to shake in fury. "Impossible."

"We will find out," Zempel said darkly.

Hochstetter narrowed his eyes, glaring at the two other Gestapo men. This could be a trick, something Hogan conjured up to throw him off the trail. Just who were these two men, anyway?! How did he know they could be trusted?!

"You will stay here!" Hochstetter growled.

"But Major! Cinderella will-"

"I will send men to go in search of him!" Hochstetter cried, stamping his foot. "You two will wait here!"

"Of course."

"You," Hochstetter said, pointing to a sergeant. "Watch them! If they try to leave the room, shoot them!"

"But Major-" the sergeant protested.

"Not buts! They are captains, I am a major, you will follow my orders!"

"Jawohl!" The sergeant saluted and trained his gun on the two captains. It was a well known fact in this particular Gestapo unit that unless one had a death wish, Major Hochstetter was not to be contradicted, no matter how crazy he was.

"Now," Hochstetter said, turning to the men that had gathered. "Half of you search for Kruger. He cannot be far- he left here only a few hours ago-"

"What?! You had Kruger here and you didn't inform us!"

Hochstetter ignored him. "They rest of you, go search Kruger's house. Tear it apart! I will be down interrogating my prisoner!" And with that, Hochstetter stomped out of the room.

Behind Hochstetter's back, and unnoticed by him, the two captains exchanged worried glances.

* * *

It was a bad day to be Andrew J. Carter. On any given day, Carter's luck was horrible. But today, it seemed as if all the powers of the universe had met and unanimously decided that Carter would be the victim of all their fickle whims.

He could deal with a flu- it wasn't the first time he'd been sick. And although he had only ever been questioned while in disguise, he could deal with the Gestapo- again, nothing new there. Heck, he could even deal with them both at the same time. But when Major Hochstetter stepped into his freezing cell, shaking with rage, Carter knew he was in trouble.

Name, rank, and serial number. Colonel Hogan had drummed it into him. Say nothing but name, rank, and serial number. Right, like that was going to happen. Sick or not, when Carter was nervous, he babbled non-stop.

As he shivered in the corner of the room, Carter watched Hochstetter pace, muttering under his breath. Just what had made him so mad, Carter wondered. He knew it didn't take much to set Hochstetter off- Carter had played with chemicals that were less explosive than him- but he had never seen him so murderous before.

As Hochstetter continued to pace, Carter began losing interest. He was tired and cold. If Hochstetter was going to question him, he'd better hurry because his eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds. Stifling a yawn, Carter curled into a tight ball and started drifting off to sleep.

A swift kick to the shin woke him up instantly. "So, your Colonel Hogan thinks he can outsmart me?"

"Wha?" Carter asked in confusion as he grabbed his leg in pain.

"I am not going to fall for it! I will have those two captains shot and all their papers on Kruger burned if I have to! I will not let Hogan get away again!"

"Uh…"

"Quiet!"

"Geez, make up your mind, would ya! I thought you brought me here to question me!" Carter cried. This guy was nuts!

Hochstetter answered with a kick to the stomach, knocking the wind out of his prisoner. "I do not need you! I will write your confession myself!"

"Well gee, if you were going to do that, couldn't you have left me at Stalag 13?" Carter asked when he had caught his breath. "It isn't exactly Miami, but I was warmer there than I am here. You guys couldn't leave a few blankets in here or something? A guy could catch his death! Aren't you cold? Hmmm, probably not. The colonel says you're-"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Hochstetter asked, his anger giving way to confusion as he listened to the American babble.

"No. My mother says that I didn't talk until I was three and a half and so I talk a lot to make up for it. I could probably talk the ear off of a-"

Hochstetter tuned him out as he began to pace again. It was impossible. A two foot Frenchman who fainted at the sight of blood and this idiot American who couldn't keep his mouth shut. Surely if these two would make the worst spies in the world.

Peeking over his shoulder, Hochstetter studied the American. Still talking. Something about corn husking contests and apple pie.

Definitely not a spy.

But he had to be! He was a prisoner at Stalag 13! Hochstetter had lost track of how many strange things had happened in and around that camp. Not only that, but he was in Hogan's barracks! Surely he would know what went on there! But then again, why would Hogan trust such a blabber mouth with his secrets if he indeed had any.

 _If_? Of course he had secrets! Hogan was the most dangerous man in Germany! Wasn't he? Hochstetter looked at the American again. Well, if he were the most dangerous man in Germany, he was also the most stupidest man in Germany to have spies like this.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He had to shut the American up before all his theories about Hogan disintegrated!

A good, hard kick in the face shut the prisoner up instantly. Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Hochstetter marched out of the tiny, cold room and slammed the door.

He had to think.


	13. Mental Tennis

Major Hochstetter had been trapped in a game of mental tennis for over an hour.

Hogan _had_ to be a spy. _Smack._

But if he was, why did he have such incompetent men under his leadership? _Thwap._

Perhaps the men were not in on Hogan's secrets. _Bop._

But not even Hogan could keep something like that secret from the men in his barracks. _Whip._

There was no other possible explanation! _Schwing._

What about Kruger? Those captains had said he work for the Underground. _Thunk._

Why would an underground agent endanger members of his own operation? Or even just two random prisoners? _Fwip._

Because the underground dogs had neither honour, nor loyalty. _Bam._

Hochstetter slammed his fist down on his desk. "BAH!" he cried to the wall. "BAH! When will those fools be back?" He checked his watch. Well, if nothing else, he would see what he could get out of his prisoners.

His march towards Sergeant Carter's cell was cut short when he saw his team at the end of the hall, talking excitedly with the captains. Hochstetter felt his temperature rise. They were supposed to report to him immediately, not talk with the suspected traitors.

Hochstetter stomped loudly toward them, catching their attention immediately. They straightened and offered him a salute. "Stop saluting, you fools, and tell me what you found at Kruger's!" Hochstetter screamed.

The lieutenant in charge of the search team stepped forward. "Herr Major, we went to the suspect's house. It took us some time, everything was most cleverly hidden, but we found maps. A radio transmitter. Explosive devices."

Hochstetter turned a dangerous eye towards the captains. "And how do I know they did not plant that evidence? They are working with Hogan! They are trying to save him!"

The sergeant in charge of guarding the captains spoke up hesitantly. "I checked their papers, Herr Major. They looked to be in order."

Hochstetter felt like his brain was about to explode. These dummkopfs were so easily fooled. Obviously Hogan could forge anything he liked. "Oh you checked the papers? You are a sergeant! You could not read your own name!"

"Herr Major," the lieutenant interrupted. "We also found this." He held out a paper, which Hochstetter snatched. He looked at it, his eyes growing wide. It was a candid picture of him, taken somewhere in Hammelburg.

"What is this?!" He demanded to anyone and everyone gathered.

"Your picture," the lieutenant explained.

"I know that," Hochstetter seethed dangerously, shooting daggers at the lieutenant with his eyes. "Why did Kruger have it?"

Captain Zempel cleared his throat. "Major, if I may, we have been following Cinderella's organization for quite some time. You have been mentioned as a great threat to them."

"Yes, yes, they have tried to assassinate me several times," Hochstetter said. "And have failed every time!"

"Perhaps now they decided on a different tactic," Müller mused. "Perhaps they want to discredit you."

"Discredit me?" He didn't believe it. "And just how would they do that?"

Captain Müller shrugged. "I do not know, Herr Major."

"BAH! This is all ridiculous!" And with that, he marched away, resuming his journey to the American's cell.

"I told you he was obsessed with this Hogan," he heard the sergeant grumble.

Hochstetter hesitated for just a moment before continuing on. He was not a fool. He knew what others thought of him at Gestapo headquarters. For years he had been feared. His word was law and even seasoned agents fell over themselves to follow it, for fear that he would have them arrested or shot.

But ever since Hogan had arrived at Stalag 13, ever since that insufferable American had come into his life, his position had gradually deteriorated until he had become an object of secret ridicule. Whispers followed him, men sniggered behind his back, and superiors sent juicy assignments elsewhere. He could still inspire fear, but he no longer commanded respect.

Hochstetter thought back to when he had taken Kruger to the camp. If he really had been an underground agent, intent on diverting suspicion from himself even if it meant throwing an Allied into Gestapo hands, then why didn't Kruger just choose Hogan when Hochstetter pointed him out. The American colonel certainly looked the part. It would have played to Hochstetter's own bias.

He hadn't. Why?

Perhaps Kruger really did want to undermine him. And, if so, what better way than to point out the two most pathetic looking men in the camp? Two men who were sick with the flu? A tiny Frenchman and an idiot American? Oh, yes. Only a fool would believe those two would be spies.

Hochstetter smacked his forehead. He was that fool. He had walked right into Kruger's trap. One look at his two prisoners, and his superiors would see exactly where his obsession with Hogan had led him: tricked by the underground into pinning everything on two hapless prisoners of war who didn't have enough brain power between them to strike a match, let alone blow up a ball-bearing plant.

No. This was all a trick. Hogan had somehow contacted the underground and had made all of this happen.

But then, on the other hand, maybe it wasn't a trick. And if he pursued this any longer, his superiors might finally lose patience, and he could find himself at the Russian front. Or, worse, end up in Gestapo custody as a prisoner.

Was it worth the risk?

Hochstetter didn't have a ready answer as he found himself standing outside of the American's cell. He paused, debating whether he should enter, but then took a step back and redirected himself towards his office. When he arrived, he picked up the phone. "Get me Stalag 13," he told the operator. A moment later, one of the Gestapo men he had left there answered. "Ja, this is Major Hochstetter. I want a full report of what Colonel Hogan has been doing."

"Nothing. I have been here the whole time."

Hochstetter frowned. "And what about the other prisoners? Go find out. I want to know exactly what they have been doing- especially the men in Hogan's barracks!"

* * *

As it turned out, the men in Hogan's barracks were trying to keep as calm as possible. They had started up a leisurely game of cards. The SS guard was sleeping near the door, propped up against Newkirk's bunk.

"When is he going to wake up?" Kinch hissed quietly.

Newkirk checked his watch. "Should be any minute now."

Sure enough, a few moments later, the guard roused himself. "Was? Was ist los?"

The men at the table made a show of stiffening and lowering their heads. "We're just playing cards," Kinch insisted. "Like we have been for the last hour."

"What did you do to me?" the guard demanded.

"Do to you?" Kinch parroted. "What are you talking about. We've just been-"

"I was asleep!" the guard barked. "You-"

"Asleep?" Newkirk interrupted, shocked. "Bloody hell! You mean you've been asleep this whole time. And here I thought that one wrong move would get a bullet in me back, and you were asleep the whole time?!" He no longer sounded shocked, but offended. "Well if that doesn't take the proverbial cake!"

"I have half a mind to complain to Major Hochstetter," Kinch added. "We lost some valuable escape time."

"What do you think, Kinch? Which would be better? If the good major shoots him, or sends him to the Russian front?"

Kinch felt, rather than saw the SS man flinch and stiffen. Ah yes. The old Russian front gambit. It worked every time, even with the Gestapo. "Why not both?"

"I was not asleep!" the guard protested. "I was trying to fool you!"

"So we would try something, and then you could shoot us?" Newkirk tsked. "Not very cricket, is it, mate?"

"Shut up!" the guard barked.

Newkirk held up his hands in surrender. "My lips are sealed, mate."

The door to the barracks suddenly opened, and another SS guard poked his head in. "Major Hochstetter wants to know if anything unusual has happened?"

The men tensed, waiting for their guard's response. "Nein. Nothing. They have just been playing cards."

Newkirk looked over at Kinch and winked. Kinch smiled and set down his cards. "Gin."


	14. Soup's On

Hochstetter did not take kindly to the news. Nothing unusual had happened at Stalag 13. Hogan and his men were apparently on their best behaviour. He had directed his men to tear up the place, to look for any radio transmitters, any explosives, anything that would pin the ball-bearing plant sabotage on Hogan. But even as he gave the order, he knew that the chances of them finding anything were slim. If it was that easy to find something on Hogan, the American colonel would have been shot years ago.

And this left Hochstetter in a bit of a sticky situation. Did he keep the American sergeant and the little cockroach in his custody? Did he press forward without evidence and arrest Hogan anyway. This was, after all, Germany- no evidence was required. Normally. But this wasn't a normal situation. Hogan was a prisoner of war and, unfortunately, that meant he was afforded certain protections not granted the normal citizenry or even members of the German military. Secondly, Hochstetter knew he was on thin ice with his superiors as it was- especially in regards to Hogan.

He was treading a very thin line between obsession and madness. His superiors would no doubt err on the side of madness and deal with him accordingly.

Balling his hand into a fist, Hochstetter shook with rage. He knew Hogan was behind this, just as Hogan was behind all the sabotage activity in the area. But there was no way he could prove it. As soon as his superiors heard about Kruger, about his picture, about his two incapacitated, idiotic prisoners, they would finally lose all patience.

"Well played, Hogan," Hochstetter growled. "Well played."

* * *

Despite Major Hochstetter's conviction otherwise, Colonel Hogan had no idea what was playing out at Gestapo headquarters. For all he knew, Carter and LeBeau were being relentlessly tortured, and there was not a thing he could do about it. At least, not with two rifles tracking his every move. As he paced about Klink's sitting room, he could only hope that his nod to Kinch had been translated into something brilliant.

"Hogan will you stop that incessant pacing!" Klink demanded warily. "You are making me nervous." Klink nodded slightly toward the guards behind them, indicating that he wasn't the only one disturbed by Hogan.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just this crazy thing that happens when the Gestapo apprehend two of my men," Hogan replied testily. "It has a tendency to make a guy anxious."

"But they did not do anything," Klink pointed out. "You said so yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know they didn't do anything. You know they didn't do anything. But is that going to matter to Hochstetter and his band of merry maniacs?"

He saw the guards stiffen and frown, raising their rifles slightly. Right. Don't antagonize the crazies.

"Hogan," Klink warned, his voice wavering.

It was at that amoment that the door to the Kommandantur opened, and Hochstetter stalked in. Hogan watched him with thinly veiled rage. "Where are-"

"Oh Major Hochstetter, it's a pleasure to see you back so soon," Klink said nervously, stepping in between Hogan and Hochstetter. "I'm sure that means you couldn't find any evidence against LeBeau and Carter, and we can put this whole terrible misunderstanding behind us?"

"BAH!" Hochstetter swept Klink aside with his arm and marched up to Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, your men were arrested on suspicion of sabotage activity."

"So you told me," Hogan said as evenly as he could. "So did they admit to being butterflies?"

Hochstetter growled. "I had… insufficient evidence to continue my interrogations," he ground out, "and have decided to return them to the custody of Kommandant Klink."

"Well what do you know: even in Germany, justice and common sense can prevail," Hogan said flatly. The two men glared at each other.

Klink broke the silence by clearing his throat. "Of course, the major didn't find any evidence to support such an outlandish theory." Hochstetter broke his eye contact with Hogan to scowl at Klink. Klink faltered and shrank, but continued anyway. "After all, the major must know that no prisoner ever escapes Stalag 13, let alone can commit acts of sabotage."

"Yes," Hochstetter said, his voice shaking with anger, "I must, mustn't I? Only an absolute fool would believe these two dummkopfs could be saboteurs. And only an absolute fool would use them as such. And we neither are fools, are we, Hogan?"

As much as Hogan wanted to disagree with at least half that statement, he gave a curt nod. "No, Major. Neither of us."

Hochstetter glowered at him. "One day, Hogan. One day you will not be so clever. One day my ring of steel will finally tighten right around your neck."

"I really wish you'd be more specific; I like to mark these kinds of things on my calendar."

Hochstetter stomped his foot. "BAH!" And with that, he spun on his heels and marched out of the room, motioning his men to follow him.

As soon as the door closed, Hogan let out a little breath.

"Such a horrible little man," Klink sniffed.

"Well he's no miss congeniality," Hogan agreed as he made his way to the door.

"Hogan, where are you going?" Klink demanded.

"Going to check on my men. Hochstetter probably dropped them off at the barracks." At least, he hoped so. He half suspected he would find them in a heap in the courtyard.

"Yes, yes, of course. Let me know if they are all right," Klink said with a touch of concern.

Hogan gave him a short smile and nodded before heading out.

As it turned out, Carter and LeBeau had been unceremoniously dumped in the courtyard. Hogan found Schultz and Langenscheidt helping them to their feet. Well, they were alive, and conscious. Hogan quickly inspected them as he marched over. They looked a little worse for wear, and LeBeau had a nasty gash above his eye, but they didn't look nearly as bad as Hogan had feared.

"LeBeau. Carter. You all right?" Hogan asked when he reached them. The two men gave weary nods.

"I could use a nice soft bed right now," Carter groaned.

"Fresh out. But how about I scrounge up an extra blanket?" Hogan offered. Carter just nodded, leaning weakly against Schultz. "All right, let's get them inside."

Soon, the two men were back in the bunks, as snug as they could possibly be. Hogan hovered over them. "You guys sure you're all right?" he asked again.

LeBeau nodded. "Oui. I just need some rest."

"Looks like the underground came through for us," Kinch said as he handed Hogan some coffee.

"Yeah. Sure would like to know how they pulled it off. Kinch, get on the horn and see if you can contact Cinderella or Snow White."

"Right."

From his bunk, Carter made a pathetic little noise. "Sorry we made a mess of everything, Colonel," he said miserably. "Boy, I bet you'll never put us in charge again."

"Well, I don't know, Carter. Did you boys learn anything?"

"Oui," LeBeau answered. "I learned to be in charge, I must keep my temper. And always listen to the very end of a conversation."

"Carter?"

"Gosh, Colonel, I guess I learned that I should let someone know if I disagree with them. Maybe we could have avoided this whole thing."

"Are you blaming me for all this?" LeBeau cried, his voice passionate even if it was a little weak.

"Well…"

LeBeau turned a little red, but then quickly settled down. "I am sorry. Carter actually did a lot of good," he admitted.

"Oh sure, like making Klink believe he and I were like brothers?" He still wasn't over that one. It would take a lot more than staying quiet under torture for Hogan to forgive Carter of that. Carter just gave him a sheepish smile. "All right, we'll discuss it after you've both recovered. In the mean time, is there anything I can do for you?"

Carter squirmed. "Well… some hot soup would be nice."

"Oui, I am very hungry," LeBeau added. "Being tortured really works up an appetite."

"No problem," Hogan said. "Newkirk, why don't you whip up some soup?"

"Me, sir?" Newkirk asked incredulously.

"Sure. How hard can it be?"

* * *

Unfortunately, Hogan had either overestimated Newkirk's abilities, or underestimated just how hard it was to make a good soup. Either way, when the smoke cleared and the whole dreadful experiment was over, Hogan came to one conclusion. He may just give Carter and LeBeau another chance to lead, but he would never, ever, under any circumstance, allow Newkirk to cook again.

The End


End file.
